COUNSEL
by Write Sisters
Summary: Known as Counsel to his friends, bastard or worse to his enemies, Edward is set to prosecute a case against, Jasper, a college friend and politician. Jasper engages another friend, James as his lawyer. Isabella, a key witness, becomes involved with all three. Can she navigate a path between these ruthless men, and will the mens' friendship survive? Rated: M. Drama/Angst HEA
1. Prologue

Counsel: Prologue

Unaware of my scrutiny, she stares around the room, lazily swinging her slender, ivory leg from side to side. Her movements are both graceful and sensual; the impossibly high-heeled black shoe arches her foot enticingly.

I can't see much more, as her upper legs and lower body are concealed beneath the table. But from what I do see, I immediately understand why he would find her appealing.

Her wandering gaze passes over the glass, and then, as if sensing my presence, she suddenly swings her gaze back. Her eyes appear to lock onto me. I take an involuntary step back, although I know that she can't possibly see me. Her eyes narrow slightly as they linger.

She is without doubt, the most beautiful and alluring woman I've ever laid eye on.

Long, lustrous, dark hair spills over her slim shoulders, and her equally stunning breasts. Molten chocolate eyes appear to gaze straight into mine, and her full, red and pouty mouth tightens imperceptibly. My heart stutters as I continue to stare.

I can't believe that the mere sight of her impacts me in this way. I remind myself that I've seen many beautiful women and bedded more than my fair share of them. I quickly regain control, locking my feelings behind my hard, professional shell.

I remind myself that this woman is somehow tied up in this case. She's been skirting on the edges of a criminal ring responsible for the downfall of many innocent people, people just like my mother. She could prove to be a key witness in bringing them to justice.

She flicks her hair over her shoulder with a graceful gesture and finally turns her head to continue her perusal of the interview room.

I turn away and make my way to that same room, for my first meeting with Isabella Swan.


	2. Chapter 1, All The World's a Stage

**_Disclaimer: All Twilight characters and related references belong to the wonderful Stephanie Meyer. The story line and characters unique to Counsel belong to us._**

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_**Chapter 1, All The World's A Stage**_

_**EPOV**_

"Did you cry when you shot him? Did you cry as you slit his throat?

"I didn't…."

"Why are you crying now? It's because you're guilty, is it not?"

"Objection, your Honor, badgering the witness!" her lawyer hollers out indignantly, his interjection coming too late; the damage has already been done.

" Counsellor, I've given you latitude, but watch yourself. Drop that line of questioning." Turning to the client the judge says, "You don't have to answer that question, Mrs Jenkins."

I move back from my intimidatory stance, leaving her snivelling. Gone are her self-assured, rehearsed responses. We're ten minutes into my cross, and she's unravelling under the pressure, a shadow of the grieving but self-contained widow she's been portraying in court every day. In her stead, is a woman who appears uncertain of her own testimony. Testimony, which I have no doubt, her attorney had rehearsed with her, over and over. Stupid sap that he is, taking the risk of putting her on the stand, thinking that she would make a good witness; maybe for his line of questioning, but certainly not for mine. In reality, I can't be one hundred per cent sure that she killed her husband, but I have to go on the evidence, and the evidence against her is overwhelming. And that is enough for me. My job is to prosecute, and I don't lose.

"I apologise, your Honor." I turn back to the witness.

"Mrs Jenkins, may I call you, Samantha?"

"Yes," she sniffs, probably thinking that I'm repentant and feeling sorry for her. Little does she know that I'm just getting warmed up, and making her think I'm softening is part of my strategy.

"Thank you. Samantha, let me refresh your memory. In your earlier testimony, when asked by your lawyer what you remember about the crime scene, you said that you did not see it, is that correct?"

"Y-yes, that's right."

"And then," I raise my arm to glance at my watch, "about five minutes ago, you told me that you entered your and your husband's bedroom, the same bedroom where you claim to have found him. Where he had been shot and had his throat slit, where you say that he was lying in a pool of blood. Is that correct?"

"Yes, it is."

"So, what are you really saying? Did you see his dead body, in the place where he was killed, or not? You have testified to not seeing the crime scene, and then you say that you found him murdered in the bedroom, the bloody scene of the crime. So you've lied to this court on at least one of those occasions… whilst under oath? You've lied either about not witnessing the crime scene or finding your husband's brutalized body. Which is the lie, Samantha? Never mind. I believe the real question the court should be asking is, what other lies you may have told whilst you were under oath?

"No, no, that's not what I meant. What I was saying is, that I wasn't home when he was killed. I was out …."

"Murdered, Samantha, your husband wasn't killed… as in a terrible accident. He was brutally murdered; first shot in the chest at close range, and then, probably while he was still alive, he had his throat slashed. And as we heard the Coroner testify, that act of callous brutality was most likely performed by a left-handed person. You are left handed are you not, Samantha?"

"Yes, I am… but I didn't kill my husband… I loved him."

"Loved him, as in the past tense? You stopped loving him when you found out that he'd been having a three-year affair and was planning on leaving you, did you not?"

"No! ….I meant I love him…I still love him!" She bursts out crying, wiping at her cheeks with her hand. I retrieve a couple of tissues from the box on the prosecution's table and dispassionately hand it to her as her lawyer rises to his feet.

"Objection, your Honor, leading the witness!"

"Your Honor, I'm merely drawing the court's attention to the inconsistencies in the witness' testament and establishing that she had motive, that she planned on murdering her husband."

I turn to Judge Smythe with my most appealing expression. He's a wily old fox, and I know that I need to watch myself, but I'm really getting somewhere now and need to push the advantage. I've managed to have the jury question whether she has lied about any part of her testimony and underscored her motive and opportunity to commit the crime.

"I'll allow you some latitude Counsellor, but I'm watching you closely."

"Thank you, your Honor." I make eye contact with Jacob Black, Defense Counsel and smirk surreptitiously. He and I have gone toe to toe many times and, thus far, my record remains unblemished. He despises me I know, but fucked if I care. It was his stupidity that put his client on the stand, leaving her wide open to my cross-examination. I ignore his narrowed eyes and tightly pursed lips and get back to business. I strut confidently across the front of the courtroom; I own this place. This is my stage, I'm the lead actor, and I play my role brilliantly. All the hours of sifting through evidence, applying the law and building my case ends here, in this place, on this stage. I love it; I live for it. For me, there is no high greater than this; only sex comes close to giving me the same feeling of power and control.

I fix my gaze on her. She squirms in her seat slightly, dabbing at her eyes. Her state of mind doesn't matter to me. She's someone who needs to be broken so that I can gain my objective: to convince the jury that she is guilty of murder.

"Samantha, you knew that your husband was having an affair, did you not?"

"Yes, I did, but he…"

"And you found this out about two weeks before his murder, did you not? You walked in on him and his pregnant mistress in his office, is that not so? You caused quite a scene and threatened both of them, did you not?"

"I was just upset… I didn't mean it. I loved Robin, I could never harm him."

"Loved, again in the past tense. Loved him enough not to want to see him with another woman, Samantha? You knew where Robin kept his gun, did you not?"

"He kept it in a drawer in the library, but I didn't have a key."

"But, you knew where he kept the key. Mrs Davidson, the housekeeper has testified that you knew where your husband kept the spare key to this drawer, did she not?"

"Mrs Davidson has always hated me. She would say anything to make things look bad for me. She…."

"Are you accusing Mrs Davidson, an upright pillar of the community, an elder in her church, of being a liar, Samantha? You're accusing this upstanding woman, who served both you and your husband for many years, of being a liar, are you not?

She looks like a deer caught in the headlights and glances at her attorney pleadingly. He finally stirs himself from what, I don't know; shock at my tactics, perhaps? God only knows why. Doesn't he realize by now that it doesn't matter to me that she's a woman, that she's beautiful, that her husband was a cheating bastard? All that matters is that she had motive, means and opportunity; she most certainly committed this crime. The evidence is irrefutable. I'm simply using the known facts to prove my case.

I go in for the kill. I've toyed with her enough, and she has by now firmly placed her own neck in the noose, so to speak. I glance over at the jury; I have them convinced. Time to end this; I don't want to overplay my hand.

I step away from the witness and pace dramatically around the courtroom. My eyes sweep dismissively over Black; it's obvious that he doesn't appreciate my tactics. My co-Counsel smiles imperceptibly as my gaze meets hers. I lock eyes with the jury briefly before turning back to face the defendant. The air in the room is charged with expectancy.

"You found out about your husband's plans to leave you two weeks before he was brutally murdered, shot with his own gun…by someone who knew where the gun was kept. The Coroner has testified that he was shot at relatively close range. Detective O'Leary has testified that he believes that your husband knew his killer, and that was the reason that he or she could get that close without a struggle ensuing. And then, after being shot by someone he knew, his throat was cold bloodedly slashed by a left-handed assailant. "

I step right up to the witness stand and direct myself at her, raising my voice an octave; well maybe two.

"You threatened his life in front of witnesses. You knew where he kept his gun. The good Mrs Davidson has testified that you knew where the spare key to the drawer was kept. You are left-handed.

You planned to murder him in cold blood, did you not? You pretended to be out, then surprised him in the bedroom and shot him with his own gun. You finished him off in a fury of hatred and revenge by butchering him with a kitchen knife. You allowed him to bleed to death while you cleaned yourself up. You waited an hour before calling the police. You planned to murder your husband, did you not, Samantha?"

"I…I… no… I loved…love my husband…" She stutters, sobbing loudly.

"Objection, your Honor; move to strike Counsel's last tirade from the record. It cannot be deemed to be questioning. Your Honor, Counsel has badgered and led the witness throughout his cross-examination."

Idiot! He, like every attorney, has been taught the fundamental rule of cross-examination; 'every question must be a leading question'. Most attorneys know the rule, most try to stick to it; most forget it within minutes into their cross-examination. I've made that rule the cornerstone of my practice. That rule allows me to never lose control, to never cede control. What the layperson fails to realise, is that unlike a direct examination where you care about what a witness has to say, or where you want to gain information from a witness, in a cross-examination you don't care about any of that. You don't want to ask the witness, you want to tell the witness. In fact, you are giving evidence, not asking questions. You are, in reality, the one testifying, not the person on the stand. You want the jury to listen to what you have to say, not what the witness has to say. You want the jury to remember the last dying moments of the victim, not the evidence of the defendant.

"Counsel, you have been warned; continue with this line of questioning, and you will be found in contempt."

"I have no further questions for this witness, your Honor." No need to push this, I've gained my objective. I've successfully managed to discount her earlier testimony, and the jury has listened to my evidence.

Judge Smythe turns to Black and asks him whether he wants to redirect. He must finally realize the futility of having his client testify, and he declines.

"Court will take a three-hour recess. We will reconvene at three p.m., at which time we will listen to closing arguments from Counsel."

I walk over to the table and join my co-Counsel, Victoria Knowles, with a smile. We've had a successful day. Jacob Black is speaking to his client as she gets ready to be led back to the holding cells. He whispers something to her and then turns his dark, hate-filled eyes on me.

"You really are a bastard, Cullen", he spits quietly, not wanting to make a scene for the few stragglers and reporters in the room to witness.

"No arguments there, Black, but the least you could have added is that this bastard knows his job. Not sure that I could say the same for you." I turn and pack up my paperwork.

"Lunch, Edward?" Victoria says hopefully. She's a sexy woman, flaming red hair and long legs. I know that she wants me. The phrase 'don't shit in your own nest' comes to mind; so, no, I would never go that far, but she obviously holds out hope for more. I'm in a relationship, of sorts, but I'm not one to deny myself some simple pleasure. I'm prepared for my closing argument, so why not enjoy some beautiful and intelligent company over lunch?

"Why not. Let's wander over to Neptune Oyster, their clam chowder is the best, and I've worked up quite an appetite."

I ignore Jacob Black as we leave.

.

.

.

"So, the trial's going well, Edward, you were amazing in there. Not that I'd expect anything less from the department's star prosecutor," Victoria says almost as soon as we're seated. She slides her hand across the table and runs her long, red nails across my forearm.

I look up into her eyes, holding her gaze for a long moment. I gently remove my arm from beneath her hand. "Thanks. It really is a pretty cut and dried case; the evidence against her is undeniable, really. Now that we've presented all of the facts to the jury, all I need to do to gain a conviction, is to keep the pressure on so that they don't sympathise with her because of his infidelity."

"I agree," she says shifting in her chair, and I feel her ankle brush against mine. It could be purely accidental, but I somehow doubt it. She's staring at me knowingly, waiting for some kind of response to her invitation. I smile broadly at her, then quickly become more serious.

"Vic, what are you doing, we've been through this before. You are an attractive woman…. An extremely attractive woman," I add, as I let my eyes slowly run over her, from the top of her head, to her inviting breasts, the tops, which I can just discern above the buttons of her silk blouse.

"And under any other circumstances, we'd be spending a couple of hours in the bedroom of some handy hotel. But we're professionals and work colleagues… and as much as it pains me to turn down such a sexy woman, the answer is still no. Let's not spoil things, Vic."

She let's out a long sigh, pursing her red lips. "We could be so good together, Edward… If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me. I'm not giving up." she says breathily, once more running her nails down my arm. Then she abruptly turns to the menu before her. "Okay, let's order. Remind me, what's good here."

I shake my head and grin at her. "Well, as I said, their clam chowder is legendary."

.

.

I listen as Black finishes his closing statement. I've been underwhelmed by what he's said thus far. He's not decisive enough, and he lacks the killer instinct to take out an opponent like me.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I ask that you take the following into account and to consider the facts carefully. My client loved her husband deeply. Yes, she was devastated to learn of his infidelity, and she was heartbroken that he was having a child with another woman. But she firmly believed that she and her husband could work out any differences in their marriage. She had reason to believe that they still had a future together. They had discussed her willingness to accept his unborn child as a part of her husband's life and had agreed that the two of them would work toward reconciling their marriage. On the night of his murder, she was not home. She had had a long day's shopping and had decided to stop off for a drink on the way home.

The pub she visited was crowded, so it is not surprising that no one specifically remembers her being there. When she returned home she found her husband in their bedroom, lying in a pool of blood.

She panicked and tried to help him. Surely, this is understandable under the circumstances? She was shocked, overwhelmed and distraught. The prosecution would have you believe that there is something sinister in this reaction, but I put it to you, that it is a very normal reaction to the scene she walked into. She put her hands on her husband to help him, the actions of a concerned and loving wife. It is perfectly understandable that it took her some time to compose herself and to think clearly enough to call the police, is it not?

The evidence from the neighbour who thought she heard my client at home earlier that evening cannot be substantiated, and should therefore be discounted. The evidence from the housekeeper does not prove that my client was, in fact, the one to remove the gun from her husband's desk drawer. He may have done so himself and taken it up to the bedroom. Perhaps, he heard some disturbance and armed himself against an intruder.

There are many left-handed people in our society; surely my client is not the only left-handed person in the area? The prosecution's case is built on supposition and the evidence of their witnesses can be disputed.

I put it to you that there is not sufficient or irrefutable proof to find my client guilty of this murder. It would be doing and innocent and wronged woman a gross injustice to commit her to a possible life sentence. I ask you to carefully consider all the facts., and if you are at all unsure, you must find her innocent.

Thank you. The Defense rests, your Honour."

He moves away from the jury and goes to sit beside his client, turning to her as she whispers something to him.

"Counsel?" The judge addresses me.

This is my moment, the lead actor's final and triumphant scene onstage; his last chance to elicit an ovation from his audience. I get up slowly for effect and button my jacket. I fix a warm smile on my face as I approach the jury and make sure to make eye contact with each of them, before I speak.

"My honourable colleague makes a good case, but he fails to state the facts. What he presented you with is circumstantial evidence, not cold hard facts. The evidence he has presented in his closing address has all been discounted or disproved by substantiated evidence from witnesses you have listened to throughout this trial.

The facts are, that several witnesses in Robin Jenkins' office heard the defendant threaten, not only him but also his pregnant mistress, and despite the police interviewing dozens of witnesses at the pub that the defendant claims to have visited, they were unable to find a single person who remembers her being there. Not a bartender, not a waiter or waitress, not another patron. I think we can all agree that the defendant is a striking looking woman, one who would hardly go unnoticed by everyone in an establishment such as the Silverstone."

I lean into the jury a little, my body language open and appealing. I want them to view me as earnest, sincere and interested only in conveying the facts. I allow my eyes to briefly roam over the panel and settle my gaze on a middle-aged woman to the left. I sense her interest in me is more than just in what I have to say. Any perception of a personal connection with a member on the panel can be advantageous; it never hurts to have someone on the jury panel predisposed to the prosecution. I give her an imperceptible smile before I move on.

"Her neighbour saw the defendant arrive home late in the afternoon and pull her car into the garage hours before she claimed to have arrived home, and well before her husband was brutally murdered.

The good Mrs Davidson testified that the defendant knew where the spare key to the drawer in the office was kept. The defendant had ready access to the gun; an intruder would not have such knowledge.

The police found no visible evidence of a forced entry. The Coroner testified and presented forensic evidence that Robin Jenkins was shot at fairly close range. The fact that he allowed someone to come within such close proximity without trying to defend himself indicates that he was well enough acquainted with his killer to not suspect foul play.

The Coroner's evidence points to the fact that Robin Jenkins had his throat slit after he was shot, that he was most certainly still alive and unable to protect himself from this final and heartless assault. The entry point of the knife, points to the near certainty that his killer is left-handed. As the Coroner demonstrated, for a left- handed person to slash from the opposite direction would mean using an unnatural action. The force with which the wound was inflicted indicates a person of small to medium build."

I walk away from the jury, turning to the Defense table to glance at the defendant briefly. She lowers her eyes and turns to Jacob Black, who is still staring at me, challenge and loathing fighting for dominance.

"The defendant says she tried to help a man she herself admits she knew to be already dead, and that that is how her bloodied handprint got to be on his shirt. I put it to you that her handprint was the result of her leaning over him to slit his throat.

The Defense tells you that his client did not call the police immediately, or soon after finding her husband's brutalized body, because she was overcome. I put it to you that she waited an hour before calling the police because she needed the time to clean herself up and to get rid of evidence."

I walk right up to the jury panel and implore them directly.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I ask that you look at the facts and not at emotional pleas. If you do, the facts will lead you to the just verdict in this case, and that is, convicting Samantha Jenkins of the premeditated and brutal murder of her husband, Robin Jenkins."

I hold their gaze for long moments before turning to Judge Smythe and finally addressing the court.

"The Prosecution rests, your Honour."

The courtroom is hushed as the judge addresses and instructs the jury, then retires them to consider their verdict. I have no idea how long their deliberations will take but, for me, this trial is all but over. I have done everything I could to gain a conviction and, after months of doing almost nothing other than work on this case, I'm ready to go out and let loose a little.


	3. Chapter 3, Sometimes People Surprise Us

_**Counsel Chapter 2. Sometimes People Surprise Us**_

_**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight or any related characters. The wonderful Stephanie Meyer owns those. We do own the story, plotlines and any characters related to Counsel. **_

_**A/N: We'd like to express our appreciation to readers who took the time to post a review for the previous chapters. We're absolutely thrilled that Counsel was so well received on debut.**_

_**"Sometimes people surprise us. People we believe we know." – Joyce Carol Oates, The Falls**_

_**EPOV**_

It's been a long, yet satisfying day, as I've come to expect of any day I spend in the courtroom. Many have criticised me for displaying hubris in court. I make no apologies for the way I conduct my cases. I use and uphold the law; my job is to gain justice for the victims of crimes. I'm here to stand up for the voiceless, for those, whose lives have been ripped away from them. It's what drives me; it's what I feel compelled to do.

I shudder as I recall the look in Samantha Jenkins' eyes, when she finally realized that I had her measure. It was so reminiscent of the way my mother looked at me in her lucid moments. After more than two decades, it still plagues me.

Guilt.

It robs you of peace. I should know, I've seen her consumed by it; I've seen her lose it in the bottom of a bottle, and with a shot in the arm.

I know it well. I'm a master at recognizing it. Other than having given me life, recognizing guilt, is one of the few tangible things that my mother has left me. Now I use that gift to decimate criminals in court in my bid to gain justice for the victims in society. Justice she was denied.

I've been accused of thinking of nothing else, caring about little else. I would agree with the assessment, with one exception; my family. I would never let anything get in the way of being there and supporting my family. I owe Esme, Carlisle and Rose everything. Without them, God knows where I'd be today.

They, along with my best friend, understand and accept this. The same can't be said for my girlfriend of less than a year. Jane just refuses to accept it, and I guess she never will, especially if I don't tell her about my past. But somehow, after nearly twelve months and living with her for six, I still don't feel that I want to tell her.

She doesn't like my oldest friends. She doesn't even try to like them or get to know them. I don't think she wants to know the real me. She wants the person that the media portrays, the rich, successful DA with the bright future. She's not interested in the work I do, or why I do it. She's interested in the doors it can open for me to become even more successful, and by proxy, what doors it can open for her.

Sure, she dresses it all up in the cloak of love, but I've seen what someone like her, who professes to love you. can do to you. They can totally destroy you.

As if she has some sixth sense, her ringtone sounds from my pocket. God, yet another meaningless call, just another in the vast number she makes to me daily. Since moving in, she's taken to behaving more like a needy wife than a girlfriend. .

"Hey babe."

"God, Edward. What if it were an emergency, and I couldn't get hold of you? I've called you at least six times, and you haven't returned one of my calls."

"What's happened now, Jane?" I try to contain the cynicism in my voice.

"Nothing's happened. I'm just making a point. How much longer will you be at the office? I've seen the news, so I know that the judge has turned the case over to the jury. "

"Yes, Jane, he has, but I have other work to do. Anyway, I was going to call you, to ask you to join Emmett, the old gang and me for a drink. We could grab a bite to eat with them as well? I'm on my way there, now."

Her heavy sigh sounds in my ear. I'm all too familiar with the turn our conversation is about to take, although I had hoped that for once, she'd let it go.

"No, Edward! Why can't we just spend the evening together at home, or if you really want to go out, why can't we go to a nice restaurant, what about L'Espalier?"

"I promised Emmett, I'd meet them. I haven't seen any of them for a while, Jane, and he especially asked about you joining us."

"Edward, I don't have anything in common with those people, and I don't want to hang around those two women who are always around. What about me, what about promises you've made to me?"

"Jane, let's not start this again. Em is like a brother to me, he's practically family. I'm going to see him, with or without you. Now, I'd like you to come, but it's up to you."

"I'm not going Edward, but you'd better not get home too late. We need to talk."

Need to talk. God, I hate it when women say 'we need to talk'. What they really mean is, 'I'm going to tell you every thing that's wrong with you.' What a way to put a damper on my plans to unwind after a particularly long and exhausting trial.

She doesn't wait for a response, and the line disconnects abruptly. I exhale a long, frustrated breath.

"I'll see you when I get home," I mutter as I pocket my phone and walk hurriedly across the car park.

I soon enter the streets of Southie; this is home to me. I sail past James Condon Elementary, the school where I first met Emmett. Three bigger boys had bailed me up for my lunch money, which I had no intention of handing over. Emmett, seeing the inevitable fight about to erupt, instantly lent his already significant bulk to my aid. My lips turn up at the fond memory, and I push the irritation I feel at Jane to the back of my mind.

I'm close to Alec's bar now, and as I pull up at a traffic light, I'm unexpectedly jolted from behind. My head jerks forward sharply, and I almost hit my chest on the steering wheel. I look around in shock at the car now rammed against the back of mine.

"Son of a bitch!" I growl, jumping out angrily. The driver has yet to emerge, but I can't care about that for the moment. I'm more concerned about checking on the damage to my car.

"Are you fucking blind? That was a goddamned red light!" I spin around to shout.

The door of the car opens slowly, and a shapely leg, clad in black tights, the calf covered in a pink leg warmer, gracefully touches the ground.

The rest of the body unfolds from the car with the same effortless grace. She stands before me. Yes, a she; a petite, and youthful looking woman, who barely reaches to the top of my shoulder. It becomes obvious that she's a dancer of sorts; which accounts for the extraordinary grace of movement.

Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and she's wearing a pink headband. It's hard to see what she looks like, as most of her face is hidden behind huge, fashionable sunglasses.

" I'm so sorry! I–I just reached for my phone … it was just for a split second…" She stammers, in an accent, which is clearly not Bostonian, but I'm too irritated right now to try and pinpoint its origins. I glare down at her, not able to see her face or eyes clearly, but her full lips are visibly quivering.

"Are you insane or just plain stupid? You should know better than to get distracted while driving. Someone could've been killed." I tower over her as I lean forward slightly, and she steps back, mouth slightly agape.

"Look, I said I was sorry. There's no need to be a jerk about this. It was just a slight tap, and as you can see, there's barely any damage. Your precious car is fine."

Now it's my turn to gape. I can't believe her nonchalance. I kneel down to better assess the damage to my bumper, and my anger flares once again at what I see. Slight tap, my ass! She's mangled the bumper of my practically new Mercedes S Class.

"Give me your name, driver's license number and insurance details. That's if you _have_ insurance, of course." I say coldly, as I extend my hand, waiting for her to hand over the information.

"What? I only tapped your car. I'm not giving you a thing!"

"Well, in that case, I'm calling the police, and I suggest that you call someone who can arrange good legal representation for you."

"You're an insufferable idiot! I don't need anyone else to do a thing! I'm a grown woman. Just because I've accidently run into your car, doesn't mean that I'm useless."

She whips around, and even this obviously angry response is executed with what appears to be her signature grace. She leans into the car to rummage through her handbag, and I can't help but stare at her taut, rounded ass. God, I don't think I've ever seen such a toned, shapely ass.

She turns around, small notepad and pen in hand. I hurriedly and somewhat reluctantly bring my eyes back to her face. Her lips are pursed, as she scribbles impatiently.

She interrupts my ogling by shoving the slip of paper into my hand.

"Here, I'm in a hurry, and I don't have time to waste on your histrionics." She sinuously makes her way into her car, and before I can stop her, drives off without a backward glance.

"Hey…hey, get back here!" I watch in astonishment, as her taillights fade from view.

"What the fuck just happened here?" I look down at the note in my hand.

"B. Cygnet? Well, Miss Cygnet, you'll be hearing from me."

.

.

.

Still bristling with anger, I enter the bar and make my way to our normal table. The gang's all here, already comfortably settled in for the night.

"Damn, what took you so long, Man? Vic said you left the office nearly an hour ago." Emmett makes room for me to pull up a chair. He's still in his work attire, evidence of his job in construction clearly visible on his clothes.

"I would've been here sooner, but some _woman_ rear-ended me." I say in angry disdain.

"Was she hot?" Alec smiles as he brings his beer to his mouth. I shrug my response, as our regular waitress hands me my favorite beer.

"You're all pigs. Why do you say it as if only a woman would rear-end someone? And you, what does it matter whether she's hot or not?" Victoria glares at both Alec and me.

I smile at her as the rest of the males around the table respond with a resounding boo. "Firstly, she was undeniably a woman, secondly, _I _didn't make any reference to her looks, and lastly, she most _definitely_ rear-ended me. I haven't made any assertions about her driving skills; all I've done is state the facts, Vic. What's wrong with that?"

"You're not in court now, Edward, and I'm not the jury you're trying to convince. You know as well as I do, _Counsellor_, that research has shown the spoken word only conveys around seven per cent of what is actually being said. So don't try that sanctimonious bullshit with me. And you can't deny that you were being sexist, you practically spat out the fact that she was a woman."

"Please, don't turn this into another conversation about sexism, Victoria, we're well aware of your feministic views." Liam sighs dramatically. Victoria has long seen herself as a spokesperson for women's rights, and she's taken it upon herself to correct us at every turn on what she calls the male sexist tendencies.

"Whatever…I'm going to find out where Tanya is. I'm drowning in a sea of testosterone, and I need back up." She huffs and moves to a less noisy part of the bar.

"Why'd she go for you like that? Did you turn her down again? You know she's going to wear you down, don't you?" Emmett smiles at me wickedly.

Victoria's right; I was being a prick. I came in here with a grudge against women. I don't really hold those views, and I would've been equally angry if a man had run into me. The fact is, that it was a careless _driver_ who ran into me, the gender is immaterial. I spoke the way I did because I was still annoyed at the argument with Jane, and coupled with the accident, I somewhat unfairly took my irritation out on the woman who drove into me.

"Your inference implies that it's a likelihood. I've told you all before, it's not gonna happen."

"Come on, Counsel! It's gotta be _killing_ you to work with her all day…" Liam needles.

"Seeing her in those tight pencil skirts…" Alec cuts in.

"And the _'__fuck me heels_." Liam continues. They laugh uproariously, and I simply raise an eyebrow and lift my glass in a toast.

"I _knew_ it!" Liam slams his hand on the table. "When?" he asks, leaning forward eagerly.

"I didn't, and as I said, I won't. Victoria and I are friends and colleagues, nothing more. She's gorgeous, sexy and all those things, but I'm in a relationship, as you know, and I would never compromise either Victoria's or my own professionalism. I'm surprised at you Liam, you and Vic were an item once!"

"That's ancient history, Counsel. I know she has a thing for you, and I'm cool with that."

"Are you cool with it Alec, you used to date her too?" I turn to laughingly mock him.

"You know that shit happened when we were still practically kids, Man. Besides, let's not discuss Vic. I want to hear more about the tight little package that uh…rear-ended you." He leans his elbows on the table and waggles his brows.

"And on that note…" I get up, " I've gotta take a leak."

"Fucking copout!" Alec calls out. I can still hear the echoing laughter as I turn into the men's room. I smile at the easy ribaldry. It's always been this way. Easy and innocent banter when we were young boys, morphing into the light-hearted bawdiness of today.

_Tight little Package, indeed!_ I readily conjure up a picture of her bent over, delectable ass on display. _B. Cygnet._ She could damned well have opened the door like a normal person; she knew exactly what she was doing. Bloody tease.

I leave the bathroom just as Victoria finishes her call.

"You coming back to join us?"

"Yeah," she huffs and stares at her phone.

"What's wrong, weren't you able to get in touch with Tanya?"

"No, her phone keeps going to voicemail. She's probably with her new boyfriend." she says derisively.

"Sounds like you're jealous." I tease, nudging her shoulder with mine.

"I'm not jealous, Edward, I simply don't like the guy." She flips her hair, demonstrating her contempt at my assertion and struts back to our table.

Victoria and Tanya are like 'one of the guys'. They're Southies like the rest of us. As teenagers, they, as we all did, stuck pretty close to home. Well, I did leave to go to college. Before that we rarely ventured out of our own neighbourhood. They've each, at some stage, dated Emmett, Liam and Alec, and later moved on to other guys from the neighborhood. I'm the exception in our close-knit group, having never dated either of them. I've only ever viewed them as friends.

At times, due to some conflict or another, things would become awkward. Those occasions were almost always related to one or both of the girls. Arguments brewed, sides were taken, but the friendship between us has somehow managed to endure and remains as strong as ever.

.

.

It's late, and as the bar empties, our conversations finally fizzle out. They're all pretty drunk, but as the designated the driver, I've been careful to have only two beers.

Liam slurs his offer to stay behind and help Alec clean up, asserting that it would help to sober him. I hail a cab, and Emmett helps me to get Victoria into it. After we both urge her to call us as soon as she is safely ensconced at home, he practically collapses into the passenger seat of my car.

"Fuck. Rose is going to direct my ass to the couch tonight."

"You know my sister doesn't tolerate this type of shit, Em. You'll be lucky if you even make it to the couch, she may lock you out."

"Fuck you, Counsel. I'm sure Jane's not going to be any more accommodating when you get home at midnight…wait…one a.m. Fuck! What time is it, anyway?"

"It's two thirty in the morning, Em." I start the engine.

He checks his watch and groans, slamming his head against the headrest. He's right; he's going to spend the rest of the night on the couch, and there's no telling what awaits me at home.

.

.

.

I park next to Jane's car, and pop a mint into my mouth before getting out. No need to add fuel to the fire, she's going to be pissed off enough that I'm this late. Jane hates the smell of beer, and insists that I should drink wine instead.

The bedroom light is still on.

"Fuck!"

She's sitting on the edge of the bed with her arms crossed and agitatedly tapping her foot.

"Hey, you're still awake.…"

"Of course, I'm still awake, Edward. I told you that we needed to talk! I tried calling to remind you, but your phone was turned off, as usual."

"Jane…" I warn exhaustedly and sit down to remove my shoes.

"Jane nothing! Something could have happened to you, and I had no way of knowing whether you were alright. You prosecute criminals, Edward, I was worried!"

Here we go, more histrionics. I frown momentarily, as I remember being accused of displaying histrionics earlier tonight. I instantly dismiss the thought, not wanting to recall the disaster with my car right now.

"Jane, baby," I move her hair from her face, and plant open-mouthed kisses along her neck. "Nothing's going to happen to me," I appease her, yet again.

Whenever Jane doesn't get her way, she attempts to instil guilt in me for not understanding her concern for my safety. It's the one excuse for control that she believes I have no grounds to effectively challenge her on.

Her body succumbs to my touch, and I smile, knowing that I've avoided a long, drawn-out argument. I lace my fingers through her hair and pull her face to mine, as I delve my tongue into her mouth.

I slip my hand beneath her satin robe and softly knead her breast, feeling her pert nipple against my fingers. She gasps and arches her back. Her legs part accommodatingly, and I settle myself between them.

She increases the force of our kiss, and our movements become frenzied as she grinds against my erection. I fumble to undo my belt and finally manage to release myself. Feverishly opening her robe with both hands, I devour her breasts, first one, and then the other.

"You've been drinking beer." She pants.

"Just a couple." I let out a deep groan, as I feel her sex, still clad in lace, graze across my hard length.

" I can still smell and taste it, Edward, despite the mints. You know I hate the stuff."

I still my body and fix her with an outraged stare

"Are you kidding me right now?"

She returns my look with a silent glare. I roll off her, tuck myself back in and readjust my clothing.

I stare at the ceiling, slowly counting to ten; both to calm my rising anger and to rid myself of my still evident arousal. She sits up and fixes her robe.

"Did you really think that you could inconsiderately consume beer, which you know I detest, come home at two-thirty in the morning and have sex with me?"

"I was having a couple of drinks with my friends, whom I haven't seen in nearly a month, Jane. They were having beer, so I joined them. And I like beer, why should I give up something I like, and now, thanks to you, only do occasionally?"

"Do you ever consider me, Edward? It's always your job, or your family or your Southie friends. I hate them. Why do you still hang around them, they'll hold you back."

I can almost feel the tiny explosion in my brain about to occur at her disdainful dismissal of my friends. This is what it's always been about for her. She'd like me to forget my roots and become as shallow as her friends; only caring about who's good for their image, who's able to help their ambitions, or whom they can step on or over to get where they want to be. I breathe deeply to calm myself.

"I've got to be in the office early. I'm going to get some sleep." I grab the sheet off the bed and walk away.

"You're just going to walk away without answering me?" Her voice escalates dramatically.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do."

"You bastard!" She hurls the pillow at me, just as I reach the hallway.

"Yes, I'm a bastard." I snatch up the pillow and storm downstairs. I fall asleep, to the noise of Jane throwing things around the bedroom.

.

.

.

I'm unceremoniously woken by the clickety-clack of high heels, all but stomping down the stairs. She's battling with a suitcase in each hand and a carryall slung across her shoulder. Her expression is one of resolute thunder .

I glance at my watch, but my eyes are not yet fully focussed, so I turn to the window to see whether the sun has risen.

"What time is it?" I say groggily.

"Five a.m." She responds tersely. .

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm leaving, Edward. It's obvious that you're not serious about our relationship, and until you prove that you are, it's over."

I get up slowly.

"Come on, Jane. Let's discuss this. Give me the suitcase." I try to pry it from her grasp, but she moves away.

"Not this time, Edward. I won't be taken for granted any longer. I want…no, I deserve a real relationship, and I'm not getting that from you. You have a lot to figure out. Have a nice life."

My attempt to stop her is half hearted, at best. We've rehashed this argument so many times, and she's right. She's a beautiful, vibrant woman and shouldn't settle for less than what she wants. And really, I'm not the man she wants. She likes the shell, the trappings of my professional success and what that could mean for her. She likes my wealth, that's for sure, but she doesn't like the real me. She doesn't want or care about the real me. And if the truth be known, I don't like or care for who she really is either.

I 've never wanted a steady relationship. I was fond of Jane in the beginning, but I've never felt a burning passion for her. Nothing like the kind I've witnessed between Emmett and Rose, or our parents. We've enjoyed stimulating conversation; we've even at times, enjoyed a lot of the same things, and we've had great sex. Our relationship started out as fun and easy. And then, somewhere along the line, she sank her claws in and tried to change me, to own me, to turn me into someone who would fit in with her social set.

I did everything possible to let her know that I wasn't ready for a long-term commitment, but she just kept pushing. We spent some nights together, and bit-by-bit, she started to stake a claim. There were warning signs I should have heeded, strategically placed items throughout my house; lingerie in the drawers, an extra pair of shoes in my closet, a toothbrush stored side by side with mine. Before I knew it, she had moved in. I simply took the path of least resistance.

Our relationship was bound to end. I'm too focused on my career to enter into a permanent relationship and give a woman the kind of attention she expects; least of all, a woman who doesn't like the person I really am.

All I really want is to enjoy the company of an intelligent and beautiful woman for a night. At this point in my life, it's all I'm prepared to and can offer.

Against my better judgment, and knowing that I don't love her, I've tried having a relationship with Jane. I realize now that my weakness hasn't served either of us well. She's still been hurt and as for me…well…I'm not exactly sure what I feel, but relief would be pretty high on the list.

I call Victoria to find out whether there's been any news on a verdict. She reports no progress having been made, but instructs me to turn on the local news immediately.

I switch on the television and reach for my coffee.

"If you've just joined us, VOXP has uncovered details from a reliable source of an investigation into an alleged drug and sex ring operating right under our noses. The ring is reportedly one of long standing and involves some very prominent Bostonians. It has been alleged that Senator Jasper Whitlock is involved and associated with one of the most prestigious escort agencies in our city. If these allegations made against him have some foundation in truth, it could prove be the most notorious political scandal that this state has ever known. Jasper Whitlock is part of a powerful political dynasty dating back many generations.

We have contacted both the Police Commissioner and Senator Whitlock's office for comment, but both parties have refused to speak out on the matter.

VOXP will be keeping abreast of developments in this case, and as always, residents of Massachusetts can rely on us to be the first to bring you the news."

"What the fuck?" I move to sit on the edge of the bed, eyes riveted to the screen as I continue to watch.

I scrub a hand over my face, as I stare at the media pictures of my old college friend. I feel dazed; I just can't believe what I'm seeing.

I'm still trying to take it all in, when Victoria calls to inform me that the jury in the Jenkins case is ready to announce their verdict.

.

I trudge away hurriedly, still reeling, to get ready for court.

.

The cacophony of sound and movement hits us like the first wave of a hurricane. Black and his co-counsel are on the courthouse steps, surrounded by a horde of reporters. The scene is one of orchestrated chaos. They jostle for position, thrust microphones in his face and yell questions; all trying to drown out their competition.

His client has been found guilty of first-degree murder. A sentencing date has been set, but there is no doubt that she will have to serve a life sentence without parole.

Samantha Jenkins all but collapsed when the verdict was read and was later led out of court in a near-comatose state.

To his credit, Black appears to be holding his own, as he chooses which question to answer then gives the reporter his full attention. He's obviously as seasoned a pro at this as I am.

When badgered by a number of reporters about whether he intends to appeal the verdict, he calmly responds that he would be carefully reviewing the court proceedings and discussing the merits with his co-counsel and client. Good luck with that, I doubt that he'll find any valid grounds on which to challenge.

I make my way down the steps with Victoria in tow. The press pack, like hyenas sensing a new body to feast on, turn as one when someone notices me and calls out my name. The throng deserts Jacob Black like last week's dirty socks.

"Mr Cullen!

" Mr Cullen!

"Edward, over here, Edward!"

They practically fall over themselves to be the first to gain my attention.

If being in the courtroom can be likened to being on stage; then meeting this pack out in the open is like a celebrity being accosted by a mixed mob of paparazzi and crazed fans.

The trick to surviving their ambush is to determine the questions you're prepared to address, and then behave as if you've called the press conference. Only present the cold hard facts. It is certain death to succumb to their fickle attention and believe that you can manipulate the press to your advantage. That would be like battling a serpent with two heads, it will most certainly come back to bite you in the ass.

The noise of clicking cameras and shouted questions, combined with the physicality of their presence is deafening and mildly oppressive.

"Edward, are you pleased with the verdict?"

"Mr Cullen, how do you think this victory will reflect on your career?"

"Mr Cullen, do you believe the Defense will appeal?"

Edward, Edward, look this way!"

"Mr Cullen, do you know anything about the allegations against Senator Whitlock; does the DA's office know anything about it?" An intrepid, young reporter bravely calls out.

I studiously avoid the last missile; I'm not prepared to go there. Instead, I choose to answer the question asked about the possible appeal by Black.

Charlie Bryce, the questioner, is a veteran court reporter. He's a no-nonsense guy in his early fifties, been around the block several times and can always be relied on to get the facts straight. He's always been fair and non-biased in his reporting of me and has, unlike some of his tabloid press colleagues, steered clear of my personal life. One hand washes the other.

I stare straight into the camera his sidekick has pointed at me, ignoring everything in my periphery.

"I'm never pleased to see a human being incarcerated. I'm not here to serve my own purpose; my job is to serve the people of the great state of Massachusetts and to ensure that justice is served on their behalf. And today, the people have had justice prevail."

"Will the Defense appeal the verdict, is it true that you and Mr Black hate each other?" Another reporter yells.

" I serve the State to the best of my ability, as I'm sure Counsel for the Defense serves his clients. I have no doubt that he'll do whatever is in his client's best interest."

I give Victoria a pointed look and move away briskly, not giving anyone the time to ask another question. The less said, the better.

"Thank you ladies and gentlemen, I've said all I intend to."

I wait impatiently for Victoria to finally join me at the idling car. I open the door for her, hurriedly ushering her in and then make my way round to the other side. The car speeds away before anyone can catch up with us.

Another lesson I've learned over the years, is that it pays to have a car ready after the verdict is delivered in a high profile case, which attracts excessive media attention. It makes outrunning the hyenas that much easier.


	4. Chapter 4, All For One and One For All

**Counsel Chapter 3: All for one and one for all.**

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and any related characters and story lines. We own Counsel and all things related to it.**

_"All for one and one for all." - Alexandre Dumas, The Three Musketeers_

**EPOV**

Victoria and I have returned from court to find the office abuzz as usual. Today however, there appears to be a heightened sense of excitement and anticipation.

I have no doubt that speculation is running rife about the recent newscast. Every prosecutor in this office will be hoping that the report becomes a reality, and they're no doubt chomping at the bit to be appointed to handle such a high-profile case. A case such as this would garner national attention, and successfully prosecuting it would significantly boost the reputation and career of those having been involved.

Me? I still haven't had the time to really take it all in, let alone speculate about the possibility of working on the case. Jasper Whitlock was once a close friend, well, as close a friend, as our circumstantial differences would allow. But we were good friends whilst at college.

Since graduating from law school, we've each followed our own career paths. Jasper had a clear vision of being elected to the state senate, then running for Governor. For him, these were seen as steppingstones on the way to his ultimate goal, which is to attain the highest office in the land. His ambition, and that of his father for him, is to be the first Whitlock to make it into the Oval Office. He's certainly made good on the first step in his political journey, having succeeded in his bid for the Senate. He's the youngest-ever senator to be elected to this state. For the sake of his ambitions and our old friendship, I hope that the allegations of his involvement in the supposed drug ring remain just that, and that he goes on to walk the corridors of the White House.

I grab myself a cup of what is passed off as coffee around here. One would think, given the long hours that we spend at work, that the DA's office could at the very least extend itself to providing good quality coffee.

I return to my desk and resolve to get through the mountain of paperwork that I had abandoned for my night out.

"Cullen."

I look up to see Gerard Beazley, the DA, standing in my doorway, a cup of coffee in hand. He's a large, portly man; his once dark hair has greyed rapidly in the six years of my tenure here, and I'm not at all surprised. Our office, which he directs, handles over fifty thousand criminal cases each year. We have over two hundred and fifty employees in this building, one hundred and forty of us are lawyers. We are the largest and busiest district attorney's office in New England. He has a formidable reputation as a prosecutor and is a wonderful leader.

Chief ADA, Bill Watts, who is essentially the DA's second in command, manages the day to day running of the office and would generally prosecute the really big cases, but it is still Gerard Beazley we all look up to. Every ADA in this office to a man or woman, wishes to emulate his stellar career.

Fondly nicknamed, 'Bristly", a reference to his thick eyebrows, which perch above his intelligent brown eyes like two greying, hairy caterpillars, he can often be found striding down the halls, keeping his finger on the pulse of his personal dominion.

"Good work on the Jenkins case, come and see me in my office at three this afternoon." He walks away without speaking another word. I'm used to his brusque ways and am not overly concerned.

I look at my watch to see that it's nearly lunchtime, and given that the pile of paperwork has not diminished nearly enough, I decide to grab something from the local deli and work through lunch.

I return to my desk with a turkey on rye and, thank God, a decent cup of coffee. I've barely taken a bite when my phone rings. I smile when I check and see the identity of the caller. "Hi Mom, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Hello, darling, well you know the saying about the Mountain and Mohammed…" she teases, and my smile broadens.

I love my mother; she literally saved my life. Esme Cullen was the social worker who visited my birth mother Elizabeth and I in our run-down house, in one of the poorest areas of Boston's South.

When my mother was found dead from a drug overdose, the police contacted Esme, whose name had thankfully been added as an emergency contact on my school records. Perhaps the greatest gift my mother bestowed upon me, was to entrust me into Esme's care.

At first, Esme and Carlilse fostered me, but almost immediately after I arrived in their home with little more than the clothes I wore, they petitioned for adoption. Without Esme taking such a close interest in our case and keeping in constant contact with my mother and me, I would almost certainly not have survived into adulthood.

The area where I was born and spent the first nearly eight years of my life, is now very different, with no visible signs of the impoverishment that I suffered there. It's a showcase of tree-lined streets and renovated homes.

The abolishment of rent control, rising rents and property taxes forced the less affluent to move out of the area. The new residents have helped it to become what is now, a very trendy and desirable area of the city. Frequently, as I walk down those streets, I wonder what's become of the other less fortunate people like me who once lived here. It's too much to expect that they're all doing well, but I hope that many of them have seen good fortune, as I have.

I still live close to Southie. No longer in the heart of it as I did back then; my home now is a large converted semi-commercial building in the Back Bay district. The building, which used to house a library and art gallery, stands proud at the end of a street of Victorian brownstone homes.

Only half of the building has been converted into a home for me. I've signed the other half over to my sister, Rose. It's been standing empty for two years, waiting for her to move in and decide what she and Em want to do with it.

My new home is a metaphor for my life. Like it, I've somehow morphed from the poverty of my past to the good fortune of my present. Both form part of the whole, I'm incapable of denying or shedding either. I've learnt to move effortlessly between my Southie family and friends and the upper echelons of Boston society, where my professional reputation and the unwanted one that I've gained as one of Boston's most eligible bachelors have made me welcome.

But at the core, I remain the poor boy who was rescued from the hell of my early childhood by the angel now on the phone.

"Sorry, Mom, I've just been so busy with the Jenkins trial for months now. I realize that I haven't been home to see you in a while, but I aim to rectify that real soon."

"Well, you'd better darling. In fact, I'm going to insist that you come to dinner on Sunday. Bring Jane."

I know that secretly Mom has never been a fan of Jane's. She's very astute, and she's picked up on Jane's disdain, even though she's always been more tolerant and polite to my mother than anyone else in my family. But Mom's been nothing but supportive vocally, and has done everything to make her feel welcome. I know she's done it for me.

"Mom, I'll definitely be there, but Jane won't be. We're no longer together."

And like always, despite her personal feelings, my mother's first thoughts are for her children's happiness.

"Oh, Edward, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Mom, in fact, I've never felt better. It was for the best." As I say it, I realise that not only do I feel relieved, but also for the first time in a year, I feel free.

"Okay, if you're sure, darling. I have to dash; I just called to congratulate you on the verdict. I'm so proud of you, Edward. I'll see you on Sunday?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Mom. I love you."

"Love you too, Edward, always. Bye." I hang on until I hear her disconnect the phone, and I smilingly turn back to my sandwich. 'Love you too, Mom," I whisper.

By the time I leave to meet the DA in his office, I've thankfully cleared most of the backlog from my desk. I tap lightly on the doorjamb, and he motions me in.

"Take a seat Edward. Once again, congratulations on conducting a great case in the Jenkins murder. You just keep adding to your already impressive record. How many times have you come up against Black now? He must be getting real sick of losing to you."

"He's not really a bad lawyer, he just doesn't choose his clients well." I smirk in return.

"Perhaps that's it." He deadpans. "Anyway, onto other business. What have you heard about the case which made the news this morning."

"Only what was being broadcast on television before I left for court. I've been stuck in my office catching up on paperwork, Sir, so I don't know anymore than that."

"Is there any truth in the report?" I quickly add.

"The police have been meticulously carrying on an undercover investigation for some time now. It seems that they were just about to present us with their findings, when the news broke. I'm sure they're dying to get their hands on the informant. And if he's one of theirs, I have no doubt that they'll throw the book at him. They've put a lot on the line, including the safety of some of their officers, to bring these people to justice. "

I don't make any response, there really is nothing I can add. I'm here to gain information and direction from him. The DA is not one for small talk, so I sit back and wait for him to continue.

"Chief Andersen has arranged for Senior Detective Holmes to bring us up to date on the case before we get in front of a judge to gain the necessary warrants. He'll be here at six-thirty this evening. As he would normally head up a case of this magnitude, Watts has been kept in the loop on the investigation. He's unfortunately still away after his surgery. Brandon has been assisting him by liaising with the police, so she'll be in on the briefing. "

"Okay, Sir, what is it that you want me to do. Did you want me to assist Alice?"

He stares at me from under his bushy brows, then sucks in his bottom lip. He releases the lip with a loud smacking noise and smirks in amusement. "You'd willingly work as co-Counsel to Brandon?"

"Well…. Frankly, Sir, I'd much rather head up the case, but if you think Alice is the better person to lead the prosecution, then I'll deal," I lie diplomatically.

'Well, I'm glad to see that you're prepared to put the Department's best interests ahead of your own. But don't think for one minute that I'm fooled. You're too much of an aggressive bastard for that. A trait this department is grateful for, and the criminals out there in our great state hate you for. No Cullen, as soon I was first enlightened to the nature of the police investigation and found that Watts would not be back, I had you ear-marked to head up the prosecution, if it came to that. It's fortuitous that the Jenkins case has come to an end at this time."

I let out a sigh of relief. I'm excited at the opportunity. This is what I've always dreamed of doing, of bringing major drug dealers to justice, to get the head and not just chase the tail. In some small part, I may be avenging my mother and preventing any more vulnerable young women like her falling victim to their evil. But I also can't help thinking of Jasper and his possible involvement.

The DA cuts across my musing.

"Brandon will be your co-Counsel, she already knows this. This is a big case, Cullen, the biggest of its kind this office has prosecuted. We can't afford to mess up or miss out on the smallest detail, so I want you to come to me if you need any more help.

The Police Commissioner and I need to be kept fully informed at all times, I want no surprises. Not only is this the largest case of its kind in Massachusetts; it appears that there could be some pretty big reputations on the line. We'll have to tread a fine line, or we'll be in for a world of grief."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Sir. I look forward to working with Alice and I'll set up regular briefings to keep you in the loop." I take a deep breath and then slowly expel it.

"Sir, I'm not sure whether this may be an issue, or even if Senator Whitlock will be found to be involved, but I should advise you that the Senator and I were at Harvard together, and that we were good friends. We haven't been in contact since shortly after graduation, but I felt you should know in case it would alter your decision."

"Cullen, answer one question. Would you allow a criminal to go free, one responsible for supplying drugs to our youth and possibly for trafficking those very kids into sexual slavery, even if he had been a friend of yours?" He stares unblinkingly into my eyes.

Without hesitation, I respond. "No, Sir, I wouldn't."

"Then I don't have a problem, Cullen. Continue to do good work. Keep me abreast of happenings." I recognize it as my dismissal, and I thank him and quickly make my way over to Alice's office to catch up on what she knows about the investigation.

The thing that most people outside of the legal system fail to realize is just how pivotal the relationships between the DA and police departments are. We're part of the same team, fighting to bring criminals to justice; and in a case as large and complicated as this one appears to be, we work together to gather evidence, to make sure we have an ironclad case to bring convictions before the judicial system. We're united in our goal to successfully put criminals behind bars.

Alice is on the phone, but sees me as I stand outside her door. She holds up a finger, signalling that she'd be with me shortly. She then motions with her hand for me to come in and take a seat. She continues to speak rapidly to the person on the other end of the line, glancing up at me occasionally.

Alice Brandon is petite, with straight almost black hair falling to her shoulders. She has large grey eyes that can pin you to the wall with one look, and despite her small stature, she can reputedly be quite intimidating. She's as smart as a tack and is a fearless prosecutor, who will go far. I've never worked directly with her, but she has a reputation for being a great team player, if somewhat bossy.

She finally hangs up, telling, no, more like demanding that the person on the other end of the line gets back to her with the information that had been promised for earlier today. I smile surreptitiously; definitely bossy. I'm glad she's on my team and not the opposing side. Alice Brandon is a woman who gets things done.

"Edward Cullen, visiting the peasants, to what do I owe the pleasure?" She says sarcastically, but the twinkle in her eye belies the sharpness of her words.

"Hi Alice, how're things going? I've just met with the boss and he's…" I hesitate, wanting to choose my words carefully, because I don't know how she feels about my being given the case. After all, she's apparently put in quite a bit of time into it already."

"Oh, get on with it, Edward. I'm well aware that you've just been told that you'll be lead prosecutor in any potential case stemming from this investigation. Old Bristly has filled me in. It's not like 'Bastard Cullen' to worry about what others think, don't go getting soft on me now. From what little I already know about this case, we're going to need the total bastard that your reputation paints you to be to get these scumbags behind bars."

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I have half an hour before the police get here, so I grab myself yet another cup of the tar misnamed as coffee and return to my office. I stare out of the window onto the bustling Boston streets. My mind is still processing the information that Alice has outlined. Jasper's name has come up a number of times throughout her briefing. My mind drifts back to one of the last occasions I spent with him.

_The air is filled with the noise of boisterous and often wild celebrations of our fellow graduates. We join in the celebrations unreservedly, relieved and overjoyed to have made it through. Three friends bound for the past three years in a brotherhood of sorts by our shared college experiences. We now stand, poised on the brink of realizing our dreams._

_Looking back, it's hard to believe that we've become such good friends; two having been born into wealth, with an overwhelming sense of entitlement, and the other, born into a life of hardship, a boy from the wrong side of the tracks._

_In a move symbolizing our feeling of being 'on top of the world', we've made our way to our dorm rooftop. James pops the cork on the champagne bottle loudly and yells, "Harvard fucking Law, we made it!" He goes on to say that we've defied the odds and live to tell the tale. He's just unknowingly summed up my life up to this point._

_Since the early days of our friendship, James has dubbed us 'The Three Musketeers,' and he's used the phrase 'all for one and one for all' more times than I can remember. But as often happens with James, his observations and choice of words tend to be ill conceived and sometimes superficial._

_I'm definitely not one of the Musketeers; I'm more like__ D'Artagnan, the impoverished outsider, who by circumstance happened to become associated with the three. Jasper and James have always been closer than either of them has been with me. Despite our friendship having survived our years at college, I've always wondered if the chips were down, whether either of them would stand by me, particularly if it went against their own or the best interests of the society to which they belong._

_Jasper, it could be said, does bear some characteristics of Arthos, in that he is older by some months, and he is certainly intelligent. James definitely has the same loud and brash attitude of Aramis. And although I'm more reserved and often accused by James of being secretive, I am no Porthos._

_We are as different as night and day, with Jasper being the outgoing, intelligent smooth talker and James, the brash, partying womanizer. Our three years as friends have seen them constantly lambasting me about studying too much and not letting loose. They still don't get it. Everything has always come easily to them; opportunities, Dean's lists; women. James and Jasper have never had to work as hard as I do to have anything._

_Leaning over the guardrail, I stare down at the rowdy celebrations below. I take a swig from the champagne bottle that James hands me, and he wraps his arm around my neck. Jasper joins us, and I'm sandwiched between the two._

_"We did it, man. We made it. We get to decide our futures now, and it's going to be bright."_

_Jasper has big plans for a future in politics. He comes from a long and distinguished line of politicians and is perfectly suited to follow the family tradition. He'd been nominated as speaker at a number of campus rallies and had proven to be a good orator. He was also nominated as class Valedictorian._

_James and I have plans for a parallel career path, but our reasons for wanting what we do are very different. He wants to be a Defense Attorney, staying true to his frequently stated belief that 'there'll always be more bad guys than good, and they'll need a good defense lawyer'. Truer words have never been spoken, and my goal is to put as many of those bad guys firmly behind bars, where they can no longer do damage to innocent and vulnerable people._

_James thinks that I'm a fool and that there is more money to be made from defending criminals than prosecuting them; but he doesn't understand, nor has he experienced the true nature of their evil, like I have._

_Why, given all his family's wealth, he's so driven to make more, I can't comprehend. I suppose the saying; 'wealth begets wealth' has to originate from somewhere. I have not, and don't intend to ever disclose details about the fortune I've inherited to either Jasper or James; only my family knows the facts. Like everyone else, they believe that my parents Carlisle and Esme have paid my college fees._

_"Our futures will definitely be bright," he asserts confidently. "But tonight we finally get to take a break from reality. Tonight, gentlemen, we celebrate with friendship, booze and a lot of sex!"_

_"Booze and sex, huh?"_

_"Come on, Edward. Massachusetts is like one huge pussy, just waiting to get fucked. It's our privilege, hell no, it's our obligation as Harvard men to take advantage of the opportunity."_

_"I'm positive that as Harvard men we're expected to live up to its motto, which has absolutely nothing to do with either booze or sex._

_"No, it says something about truth, but the truth is, I don't think you've gotten laid the entire time you've been here, Edward." Jasper laughs in response, before raising the champagne bottle to his mouth._

_"You're obsessed with my sex life, James."_

_"We've just graduated from Harvard fucking University, right now, I'm obsessed with the sex life of all three of us!""_

_"So what, we should just run though the female graduating class, brandishing our penises like weapons and shouting 'all for one and one for all?" I sneer jokingly._

_"That's an amusing visual, and although the females here are cute, I'm talking about women, and I know the perfect place to find them."_

_"Please tell me you're not proposing that we go looking for prostitutes?"_

_He smiles deviously. He's never been able to hide what he's thinking; his expression now is that of a mischievous little boy. He'd be hopeless at poker._

_"That's not what I had in mind, but let's make a pact. Tonight we live our lives to the fullest." He holds out his fist, waiting for us to join him in our sign of unity, and Jasper immediately joins him. They look back at me, their hands poised in the air._

_"Counsel, what do you say?" James smirks at me._

_Counsel. Unbeknownst to any of us then, that title, used so glibly in friendly challenge by James, would later become an affectionate nickname used for me by my childhood friends._

_I stare at their raised hands for some moments, before I take the bottle from Jasper and swallow a large swig of champagne. I bring my fist to their now clenched ones, and our voices ring out as one, "Three Musketeers! All for one and one for all."_

As James attested, that night was indeed the launching pad for our futures, and as he demanded, we most definitely lived our lives to the fullest on that night.

We lost touch not long after, and I'd not given thought to either of them in many years … until now. The possibility of Jasper's involvement with a ruthless criminal syndicate responsible for the suffering and death of many innocents still boggles my mind.

It appears, in all likelihood, that I'm destined to meet up with one, possibly two of the 'Musketeers', because I highly doubt that Jasper and James have lost touch with each other, as I have with them. And Jasper may well be in need of a defense lawyer.

If that comes to pass, I will more than ever be D'Artagnan, the outsider.


	5. Chapter 5, Illegal As Hell

**Counsel: Chapter 4 – Illegal As Hell**

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all things Twilight. All original story lines and characters are owned by WriteSisters.**

_"__It's mafia, Mitch, and illegal as hell." - John Grisham, The Firm_

**A/N: We'd like to thank everyone who has taken the time to review. Your many kind words keep us inspired, and we appreciate the support. This chapter is jam-packed with detail, but it is important information. We hope you stick with us and enjoy the read.**

**EPOV**

I check my watch. It's 6.20 p.m., just enough time to take care of a neglected matter.

I pull out the slip of paper and dial the number. I take a deep, calming breath, preparing myself for what I expect to be another annoying conversation.

"The number you have dialed is not connected," the distinct voice of a pre-recorded message responds.

Believing that I must have misread the number, I redial, checking each digit carefully. I'm met with the same message. Thinking that she must have incorrectly transcribed it, I try reversing the last two numbers. When that fails, I try several more combinations, before I finally give up, realizing that there are probably a thousand permeations. My chances of success are highly improbable.

I glance at the time again, 6:28. I need to get going. "Stupid fucking woman!" I spit out as I gather my things, then silently thank the gods that Vic is not around to hear me.

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I stand up from the conference room table as Alice ushers Detective Holmes in.

"Detective, glad to meet you. I'm Edward Cullen." The somewhat nerdy-looking first impression is instantly dispelled as he grips my hand firmly. I can feel the underlying strength, the tensing of his fingers around mine, conveying some other emotion I can't yet decipher.

"Mr. Cullen, I've heard of your reputation as being probably the most aggressive litigator in the state. The crims call you bastard, I've been told. Good to be working with you, your style is just what we need on this case."

"Call me Edward, Detective, we're going to get to know each other really well, I feel. They call me bastard when they're being affable, you should hear what I'm called when they're being led out of court in handcuffs."

He gives me an indiscernible smile; the most visible sign being the crinkle at the corner of his eyes. It's as if he's learned to control his mouth but not yet mastered the same control over his eyes.

It becomes evident to me that the man has built walls around himself. He doesn't let people in easily, and I can relate to that. I understand feeling the need to protect yourself, to not let peripheral things or people divert you from your course.

"Jon," he states blandly, "call me Jon."

"Okay, boys, now that we've got the male bonding out of the way, shall we get on with it?" Alice chimes in with raised eyebrow and a rather cheeky grin. Yes, definitely bossy!

Whilst Holmes unpacks several thick files and a laptop from his briefcase, Alice moves over to the side table and pours a cup of coffee, which she hands him, after adding milk and stirring in two sugars. She already knows how he likes his coffee, a sure sign that they've spent a lot of time together, that they're both so much further ahead on knowledge of this case than I am.

She holds up the pot to me, "Edward?"

"No thanks, I'll stick to water." I grimace as I walk over to fill a glass.

"Right, are we ready to start?" Jon's lips tighten. Determination; I realize that the emotion I felt is determination.

"This all starts and ends with the Volturi family," he declares, booting up his laptop as we take our seats.

"Are you familiar with them at all, Counselor?"

" I know the family history, but these days, they're real estate moguls, patrons of the arts and charities, aren't they? I mean, I've heard ongoing rumors about them still being involved in crime, but nothing has ever come of it. I thought the family had cleaned itself up. They're now seen as respectable. Hell, they're welcomed into the homes of some of Boston's oldest families."

"Well, that's what they'd like everyone to think. Down at the precinct, almost every drug related crime investigated has provided some small clue to their involvement. There's been consistent talk on the streets of drug dealing, prostitution, extortion; you name it, and their name has somehow cropped up. We've just never been able to find the direct link," he growls in disgust. "Until now."

He turns his laptop to face me.

Alice probably knows all of this, but she leans forward with me, both of us anxiously peering at the screen

"We got lucky and picked this guy up off the street under suspicion of distributing drugs." We stare at a photograph of a behemoth of a man; he almost dwarfs Emmett. His swarthy skin and dead, black eyes, coupled with his bulk, make him look even more intimidating.

'Luca D'Olympio; he was brazen as all hell, because we only found fifty grams on him. He claimed it was for his personal use, despite the fact that we'd just witnessed him palming off twenty grams to a kid five minutes before."

He takes a sip of his coffee and continues. " He thought he'd get away with a five-year sentence. With parole he'd probably be out in three, but then we searched his car and found about a kilo in a hidden compartment in the trunk. The threat of fifteen to twenty in the pen soon had him co-operating. He gave up some pretty conclusive leads on the Volturi in exchange for a plea bargain."

I shift impatiently in my seat, wanting him to get to the heart of the case, a million questions already formulating in my mind. Before I can give voice to any of them, he continues.

"Every tip-off has led us closer to the Volturi, although we still don't have the conclusive evidence we need to bring in the brothers. But we have enough to get warrants for the arrest of two of their lieutenants and to search their homes and offices.

We feel certain we'll uncover evidence to bring in more of the syndicate and hopefully, the brothers as well. Whoever tipped off the media about the investigation has somewhat managed to put a dent in our plans. But if we move quickly enough, they won't have time to get rid of all the evidence. They still don't know that Luca sang like a bird. These bastards are cocky, they think they're untouchable; they wouldn't think that one of their own would turn on them. They won't be expecting us to have gotten so close to them."

He returns our attention to his laptop.

Three male faces appear onscreen. The similarity in their features is clear, except that one has dark, almost black hair and brown eyes, another's hair and eyes are so fair, he could almost be mistaken for an albino, and the third seems to be a mix of the two, with brown hair and pale blue eyes. He looks to be the youngest of the three. The albino is of indiscriminate age, so I'm unable to tell which of the remaining two is the older.

My eyes remain riveted on their faces, as I continue to take in the information that Jon is detailing.

"The Volturi family's history of crime dates back to the late fifties. Caius, the eldest, took control of the family business after his father died in nineteen eighty. " He points to the albino.

"Despite being only twenty-one, he managed to bring the disparate parts of the operation under his control. The police had knowledge of the family, but up until that point, they had only been involved in small crimes. As 'slum landlords' they fed off the less fortunate in the poorer areas of Boston's south. No one ever directly made any complaints against was the start of their real estate business."

I feel my anger rise and burn in my throat. I remember the tactics of landlords like that all too well. I get up and pace the room, fighting to bring my emotions under control. This is not the time to think about those years.

"Edward, are you alright?" I feel Alice's presence behind me. I turn slowly to face her, battling to relax my clenched jaw. She places her hand on my arm, a worried look on her face.

"I'm fine, Alice. Just needed to stretch my legs for a moment," I respond tersely. I don't mean to be harsh, but the only way I'm going to keep control of my emotions is to lock them firmly behind my legal persona.

"Go on, Jon. Sorry to have distracted you." I walk back to the table and resume my seat. Alice stares at me for a long moment, before she too returns.

"Caius then ordered that residents and business owners pay protection money.

They engaged in extortion and stand-over tactics to gain compliance. They also took control of the street crime in the area, especially prostitution and drugs. Soon, distribution was not enough for them, they imported their own. They formed alliances with drug cartels around the world. The drugs being sold on the streets became purer, more deadly, and consequently more people died."

"How the fuck did they not get caught in all these years?" I spit out angrily, unwanted thoughts batter against the walls of my determination to keep them out.

"They're smart, they made sure that they were never personally involved in any transactions; nothing led back to them. When we picked up a dealer, there'd be hints, subtle clues, but we were never able to pin anything on them.

They appointed people to manage each district, and they set up clear boundaries and rules that made sure no one from one district had reason to deal with or get to know their counterparts in the other. People who flaunted these rules were summarily gotten rid of.

The leaders were ordered to rid their districts of any competition. The district heads in turn, appointed their own lieutenants to run the streets, distancing the Volturi even further from the action.

In the meantime, the brothers cultivated relationships and forged friendships with influential people throughout the state, especially amongst the social set and business communities in Boston. Whilst their crime organization was thriving and growing, they were concentrating on making the family socially acceptable. Each man married a woman from a respected family, gaining more acceptance in society. They all have children, but only Marcus has a son, Alexei, who is now also part of the family business. The women know not to ask any questions."

"So how exactly did they finally slip up?" I ask, leaning in to better stare at the three pairs of soulless eyes looking back at me.

"Well, Caius," he stabs his forefinger on the face of the albino again, "is like the Chairman of the Board of a major corporation; he deals at the highest levels and only with people he absolutely trusts. He's just too smart and careful to slip up.

He removed himself even further from the day-to-day dealings by dividing the districts into two territories. He then appointed each of his brothers as CEO's, if you like, to direct and manage the operations.

"Marcus," he moves his finger to the brown-haired brother, "has always looked up to Caius, and is too much in awe of him to step out of line. He was always and probably still is, treated as the baby of the family by his brothers."

"But Aro has always thought of himself as smarter than Caius. He resents the fact that as the oldest, he got to take over as head of the family. He's a bit of a loose canon; he likes to think that he runs his territory his way and doesn't take direction from Caius. He got over-confident and sloppy," he finishes with a small, satisfied grin.

I follow his finger as he points out Aro Volturi, and for the first time, instead of concentrating on the trio, I take a really long, close look at him. This guy is key to us putting the vultures that prey on the less fortunate, those who are responsible for so many deaths on the street, behind bars.

I get the strangest feeling that I know this man, that I've seen him somewhere before. I quickly dismiss the feeling of foreboding, telling myself that I've probably seen him at some socialite's party or some fundraising event. After all, Jon's just told us that they mix with the social set. But I can't shake the feeling.

Alice gets up to refill coffee cups, and I rise to help her and get myself a cup as well. Tar or not, I need something stronger than water, the vision of a younger face with slicked-back, black hair still playing around in my head.

"As part of their campaign to clean up their image and gain influence, the Volturi have actively sought to gain the acceptance of politicians as well as that of the business community and society in general." Jon keeps talking as Alice and I move about.

"In the decades since Caius has taken over, the family has become major contributors to political campaigns on both sides of the aisle.

They've been careful to be seen as being objective, never appearing to favor either party." He settles back into his chair, leaving the laptop facing me. I turn it away though, not wanting to be distracted by my internal musings.

"Fifteen years ago, the family was one of the major contributors to then Senator Whitlock's re-election campaign. Despite making an equal contribution and having as many public photo ops with his rival, rumor has it that Caius frequently socialized with the Whitlocks. And not just at public campaign events, but in their home, during _and_ after the campaign."

I sit up in my chair at the mention of the Whitlock name.

"Jasper Whitlock stood for his father's old seat in the last election and won. The friendship between the families has appeared to go from strength to strength." He stops to take another sip of his coffee, and I feel my impatience rise.

"The Volturi family publicly presented themselves as being unbiased, donating the same funds to both campaigns. But Aro, always pushing the boundaries that Caius had drawn, appears to have taken the relationship with the Whitlocks beyond what it historically has been. It appears that he and Jasper Whitlock may be in business together."

"What the fuck does that mean, just spit it out, Jon."

"Keep your shirt on, Edward, I'm getting there. You need to understand the finer points in all of this. Right now, we have no proof, just unsubstantiated information given to us by Luca and some snippets from lower-level Volturi street soldiers. The smallest piece of information, from the most unlikely source could add up to us finding the smoking gun."

This time Alice shuffles in her seat. It's as if she can sense that he's getting to the information that I've been wondering about ever since I tuned into that newscast. Jon's eyes briefly move to hers, as if expecting her to speak, but seeing that she has no intention of doing so, he continues.

"Well, it appears that Aro has, possibly without Caius and Marcus' knowledge, expanded the family's prostitution business by taking it from the streets into a more sophisticated network.

He owns several escort agencies, which service clients from all parts of society. This mode of business allows him to better control, not only the quality of the girls, but also that of the clients they service."

Jon gets up from his seat and starts to pace the room. I sense that he's agitated, or that the next piece of information is somehow more meaningful to him than what he's already delivered.

"The information we've received from what we believe to be a credible source, is that he's started recruiting girls for some clients with very specific tastes. They've been targeting under-age girls and enticing them into prostitution. Reportedly, there has also been the odd case of abduction."

"And how is Senator Whitlock involved in all of this?" I finally voice the question. Hearing all of this and thinking that Jasper may be involved in some way, churns my gut. I can't stop the nervous feeling I have. Despite knowing that there must be _something_ to the rumors, I still find it impossible to imagine that he'd willingly get involved in something like this. It would be political suicide, and Jasper's main, hell, his _only_ focus, has always been his political ambition.

"Well the flagship, if you like, in Aro's escort business is a club called New Moon. It's an upmarket, very exclusive club; admission is restricted to members only, and membership is pretty hard to obtain. Senator Whitlock is a regular visitor to the club, and we've been led to believe that he's actually a part owner. We've not been able to find any trace of his ownership to the club as yet.

What we do know however; is that he has a very special relationship with a woman who is one of New Moon's most prized and highly sought-after escorts. She was in high demand with politicians, businessmen and celebrities. The fee for having her escort services for a night is reportedly five thousand dollars."

I look at him, I'm not sure what my expression looks like, but I feel a sense of disgust mixed with incredulity that someone would pay that much just to spend a night with a woman. Hell, sex is great, but really?

He returns my look with one of his own, before he responds.

"Christ, that's what super models get paid for a day's work. I haven't seen her myself, nor for some reason have we been able to get photographs of her. She seems to be a protected species, she's only ever been sighted at the club, and no one is allowed to enter with cameras or phones or any other recording device. "

"What, you've not been able to stake her out, to see her come or go?" I ask in disbelief. Alice sniggers quietly. I get the feeling that she had the same reaction when first hearting this piece of news.

"Well, that seems to be part of the mystery that surrounds her, Edward. No one has ever seen her come or go, the only reported sighting was from a mole we managed to get inside as a waitress, but she was fired. We still don't know why, but suspect that the Volturi has someone from our department on their payroll. I'm going to string him up by his balls when I find out who he is!" He blows out an exasperated breath before recovering his composure.

"Well, now you know the difficulty we have getting someone inside, and as I've said before, membership is very hard to come by. Even their very carefully screened members are expected to abide by the club's strict code of attendance. No cameras, phones or any recording equipment of any kind is allowed beyond the reception area, where everyone is searched and required to check-in any such items. Members comply because they understand it is as much for their protection as it is for the club's. Some very prominent people are reputedly members, and they have much to protect."

He returns to his seat, "But I digress, from all accounts, she's an absolute knock-out. Our informant has told us that since the reputed time that Senator Whitlock became a part owner, he hasn't paid for her services. About twelve months ago, merely weeks after he had allegedly made the deal with Aro, she was 'taken off the market'. She is now assigned exclusively as an escort to the Senator."

"Who is this woman?"

"Her name is Isabella Swan."

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Jon Holmes has left after three grueling hours. We've agreed that Alice and I would reconvene first thing on Monday morning to prepare our case for the petition of arrest and search warrants. The outcome of those searches may or may not provide further evidence against the brothers and possibly Jasper. As much as I don't want to believe or accept the fact that he's implicated, from what I've learned tonight, Jasper at the very least has some questions to answer.

"You were very quiet during all of that. Didn't you feel that you had anything to add?" I turn to ask Alice as we gather our things from the table.

"Oh, I have plenty to add, Cullen," she raises a perfectly shaped brow at me. "But this briefing was for you, I had my opportunity to learn about the investigation. There's a lot to take in, and I didn't want to distract you. We have a long road ahead of us, but we'll get there. Between the three of us we'll make sure we get those bastards." She smiles confidently and squeezes my arm.

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Rose is sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in hand and the newspaper spread open before her. She absentmindedly tucks a swathe of her long, silky hair behind her right ear.

The movement reveals an area arcing upward, where the shaven hair lies flat and close to her head like the downy breast feathers of some exotic golden bird. She keeps this area shaven to accommodate her cochlear implant.

I smile as I remember our conversation dating back years, when I told her that it would look cool; that it would be just another sign of her edginess, which we all love.

She looks up and sees me watching her.

"Have you read this?" She signs and voices the question simultaneously, as she points to a picture of Jasper directly below the bold headline, which reads 'State Senator Implicated in Drug and Sex Ring.'

Despite Rose having the device and being able to lip-read, the family still signs when speaking in her presence. She prefers it that way.

"No, but I can just imagine the speculation by our so-called respected media."

She signs by tapping her wrists together with two s-shaped hands. "Douchebags," she all but spits the word. Rose and I have made sure to learn every ASL profanity. Our parents were appalled when as teenagers we became as proficient in this as we were in ASL.

Screening for hearing impairment in babies did not become widespread until the nineteen-nineties, five years after Rose's birth, so it took some months for our parents to establish that she was hearing impaired. She responded well to visual stimulation, and she was so alert, that they merely thought that she was exceptionally good and did not wake or get startled easily by loud noises. It was only when others pointed it out and her non-reaction continued, that our mother took her for testing.

The FDA approved Cochlear implants for adults and the first research paediatric implants took place in the year Rose was born. When it was approved for toddlers and children, our parents agonized about making the right decision. They worried about the risk factors with a procedure that was relatively untested at the time, particularly for someone that young. In addition to that, there was the question of health insurance coverage or lack thereof for Rose's impairment, and what was for them at the time, the exorbitant cost of the surgery.

When I joined the family at the age of eight, Rose was six years old and the family was already proficient in sign language. Rose was also doing well with speech therapy.

At the age of nine, when I had eventually settled in, I asked to enroll in sign language classes. And later, when Rose had mastered speech therapy and started attending lip reading classes, I joined her. I've found that particular skill quite handy on many, many occasions.

When Rose was old enough to know about her options, she was adamant that she did not want an operation. With her marriage to Emmett and children a possibility, she realized that she'd want to hear her children, so she finally made the decision to undergo surgery.

Rose has never allowed her impairment to stop her from doing anything. She's blossomed into a warm, loving and tenacious woman. My sister is incredibly beautiful, with a figure Em describes as sin. She has long, honey-blond hair and eyes so blue; they're often described as being violet.

I recall how warm and welcoming she was when I turned up as an underfed, scared little boy. Her strength and easy acceptance of me as her new, older brother gave me the confidence I so badly lacked. We became incredibly close, and I credit her with a lot of my success and values I've come to hold dear.

I spent my youth protecting Rose from bullies who taunted her about her impairment and later, challenging any hormonal boy who looked at her inappropriately. I got into fights with those who found the courage to do more than look. In return, she loved and idolized me unconditionally, giving me the strength of acceptance and love that I 'd lacked so dismally in my early life. It seemed to me, to be only fitting that the one thing other than paying for my education and buying myself a home, was to use my inheritance to do something for my parents and Rose that demonstrated my love and gratitude.

"So, what have you heard? Is Jasper _really_ involved in these dreadful crimes?"

Rose's voice pulls me from my reverie, and I look up to see her agitated face. It's obvious that she must have signed, but I'd not been paying attention.

"I don't know; I haven't really had time to digest it all."

"Well, you must know _something_; someone at the DA's office must know _something_? She practically grunts out the word 'something' in her frustration at what she perceives as my obfuscating, no doubt.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and laugh at her impatient curiosity.

"Well, I was only asked to head up the prosecution today, but I really don't know anything about Jasper's involvement. The DA's office has not been formally briefed by the police yet."

I look at her over the rim of my mug, eyebrows raised, counting down the time it takes for her to realize the ramification of what I'd just said… three, two… her mouth opens, and I smile. My sister is so predictable

"Wait… They're giving _you_ this case, wouldn't the Chief ADA prosecute a case like this? Edward, that's fabulous… " She smirks broadly, her quest for more information about Jasper momentarily forgotten. " I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks, Sis. You know how much that means to me." I get up and lean in to kiss her cheek." She hugs me tightly and then leans back, craning her neck to look at me.

"Wait … so you could potentially be prosecuting a friend of yours?"

"Rose, I've already told you that I don't know if Jasper is actually involved… and there are no _friends_ in law, dear sister, only lawyers and defendants."

"Spoken like a true DA." She laughs softly and returns her attention to the article. "I can't believe this. It's just…"

"Tell me about it… it's inconceivable. Given my profession, not much shocks me, but this…. It's a complete bombshell."

She shakes her head and turns the headline facedown. "So, Mom tells me you and Jane have gone your separate ways. You finally wised up and saw her for what she was, huh?"

"Not exactly, _she_ dumped _me_."

"And you sound so broken up about it." She scoffs sarcastically.

"Pssh, she did us both a favor. I couldn't make her happy, I wasn't happy, and together we were just plain miserable."

She nods her understanding, and then her expression morphs into that of the little mischief-maker I remember from our childhood. "Victoria?" She smirks knowingly.

"No, Rose." I huff and touch the p-handshape middle finger to my nose tip then bring it out to 'F'. The sign for 'piss off', and our oft-used teenage gesture when one's teasing got to the other.

"What's with all of you, it's never going to happen." "Never!" I say slowly and loudly so that she can both hear and lip-read my conviction.

"Never what?" Mom enters the kitchen. "And don't think I didn't see you swearing at your sister, Edward! Dinner will be ready in half an hour; Em and your dad should be home by then. You can both help to set the table."

Mom admonishing us and doling out punishment is yet another pleasant reminder of our teenage years.

.

.

.

On Monday, as soon as I arrive at the office and before my early meeting with Alice, I make a phone call to a friend of mine on the police force.

"Hey Ben, how are you?" I greet him cheerfully. Ben Cheney is another Southie, and we often ran into each other in our wild teenage years. He started out as a cop on the beat and worked his way up to detective status.

"Cullen, how the fuck are you? Caught your ugly mug on the news the other day. Congratulations on winning that case."

"Yeah, thanks, Man." I laugh at his greeting. "Listen, I have a favor to ask. Someone rear-ended me and seems to have given me a wrong number, so I'm unable to contact her to get her insurance details. Do you think you could trace a name for me?"

"What, our future DA forgot to get the pertinent details at the scene of an accident? " He laughs uproariously.

"Knock yourself out, Cheney. But seriously, can you do this for me?"

"Sure give me the name." He's still chortling.

"B. Cygnet, that's all I've got. She's probably in her early to late twenties, but that's all I have and this number." I rattle off the number.

"That's it?" He asks incredulously.

"Yes. B. Cygnet."

* * *

**A/N: This is a work of fiction. We've researched subject matters to the best of our abilities but acknowledge that there may be inconsistencies in the information we've uncovered. We have, in places, taken creative license to weave our story, whilst endeavoring to maintain the highest level of integrity and respect for subject matters.**

**All legal procedures are loosely based on that of U.S. and the State of Massachusetts regulations. **

**All we ask is that in reading this work of fiction; that readers bear in mind that is just that, a work of fiction.**

.


	6. Chapter 6 Memories Can Lie Dormant

**Counsel: Chapter 5 - Memories Can Lie Dormant**

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. All things Twilight related are the property of Stephanie Meyer. Original story lines and characters are owned by WriteSisters.**

**A/N: We'd like to thank Twific Crackmum who thought highly enough of this story to nominate it for 'Fic of the Week' on The Lemonade Stand. We can't express deeply enough how touched we were by the gesture. And to anyone else who may have been involved in the recommendation, our gratitude goes out to you. We also appreciate the fact that so many of you then took the time to vote. **

**At the time of posting this chapter, it appears certain that we won't win. But honestly, we didn't expect to. We don't have a huge following, but the readers we do have are a discerning group, and we value you highly. We write for the love of it and for your enjoyment. For us, it's enough that one or more of you thought our work merited a nomination. Thank you!**

**Congratulations also to the other nominees.**

_"__It's strange indeed how memories can lie dormant in a man's mind for so many years. Yet those memories can be awakened and brought forth fresh and new, just by something you've seen, or something you've heard, or the sight of an old familiar face." - Wilson Rawls, Where the Red Fern Grows._

**EPOV**

We've spent most of the day closeted in the conference room, painstakingly poring over evidence and having several lengthy telephone conversations with Jon. Alice and I are finally wrapping up our petitions; we're due to present them to Judge Chamberlain tomorrow morning.

I feel confident that we can convince him to grant search warrants for three of our targets. Two are Volturi street lieutenants, Nathanial Barnes, also known as 'Deadly Nate' and Johnny 'Slam' McGill. The third is Fico Moretti, one of Aro's district leaders.

We're also petitioning for anticipatory warrants to search the Volturi brothers' homes.

Anticipatory warrants allow police officers to search only once another event has occurred. Courts grant these warrants for situations in which police can show that at some time in the future, evidence will be found in a particular location. This is called showing probable cause.

In the case of our request for anticipatory warrants, we will argue that our probable cause is the belief that evidence will be found in the search of Barnes, McGill and Moretti's homes, and that in turn that evidence will implicate the Volturi brothers. Even if the judge does grant the anticipatory warrants, if no evidence is found at their henchmen's premises, the police will not be able to search the Volturi's homes. But we feel confident that evidence will be found.

Without the anticipatory warrants already in place, we'd be wasting valuable time in petitioning for new search warrants only _after _the first evidence is found. And if, for some reason, they find out about the earlier searches before we can get the new warrants, the Volturi could destroy vital evidence.

Courts do not grant anticipatory warrants lightly, so I know that convincing Judge Chamberlain to grant them will be the most challenging part of our meeting.

I simply can't fail, too much depends on it. Jon has a very detailed plan to execute the warrants. He will have teams on standby to search the three henchmen's homes simultaneously, thereby minimizing the risk that news of their arrests will get out. The first thing they'll do when entering a property is isolate everyone present and confiscate all phones. Three further teams will be on standby, waiting for the go ahead to search the Volturi premises.

"If anyone can convince him, you can, Edward." Alice cuts through my internal musing. She's obviously been thinking about the same things.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. We can't fail. Jon's relying on us," I return her smile and push away from the table to walk over to the refreshments.

"Coffee?" I hold up the pot. She nods, her brow now slightly furrowed.

"What, you've finally realized just how bad the coffee here is?" I tease.

"I've had worse. You should try the coffee down at the precinct; you'll come to appreciate this, once you do." She grimaces delicately. "No, I'm just thinking about how crucial it is that we succeed tomorrow. You're right, the police are relying on us; they've done a wonderful job so far, this next stage is up to us."

"Yes, they have, and we've done all we can today, this is the first step in bringing these bastards to justice. We're ready."

"I'll get Jessica to type this up and print off copies first thing in the morning. I'll check them over and have them ready for when we have to leave. Do you want to go through them once more before we leave for judge's chambers?"

"Let's meet at ten a.m., that gives us an hour before we have to leave. Thanks for all the good work today, Alice. It's been great working with you."

"You too Edward, you really are a great litigator, you know. One of the best I've seen, and here I thought you were just a pretty face!" She deadpans with a humorous gleam in her eyes. I'm really starting to like Alice Brandon, bossy or not, she's a great litigator, and I couldn't ask for a better co-counsel.

.

.

.

I'm sprawled out on my sofa, watching the late news before finally turning in for the night. The media is still speculating about Jasper's involvement in the alleged sex and drug ring. They have thankfully, not been able to uncover any further details. It would be an unmitigated disaster if they were to stumble on new information now and tip off the Volturi to just how close we're getting. Jasper's camp in the meantime, is continuing their tight-lipped silence on the matter

My phone rings from the coffee table, and I lazily turn the sound down and reach for it.

"Hello Edward, it's been a long time." The sultry tone of Kate Delaney's voice responds to my greeting.

"Kate, how are you. Yes, it's been a while, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Kate is the daughter of Judge Delaney, and we met at a charity event about two years ago. We've been on a couple of casual dates, mostly partnering each other to social or charity events, then I met Jane, and we lost touch. Jane had a way of scaring off women she saw as competition.

Kate's very attractive, well beautiful really, with straight, strikingly red hair, cut into a blunt bob and grey eyes. The physical attraction between us was very evident, but our relationship never had a chance to go develop into anything more. Kate belongs to the same social set as Jane. I have, over the years, casually dated and had sexual liaisons with a few women like them. But with the exception of my twelve-month relationship with Jane, I've somehow never found the desire to enter into anything more lasting with any of them; it's only ever been casual dating and sex. And Kate's father is a judge; I really don't need to piss off a judge.

"Well, I found out that you're single again, Edward. There are a lot of women out there who are overjoyed at that piece of news. And needless to say, I'm one of them."

I laugh lightly. "Sure, Kate, as if you're short of suitors."

"Well actually, Edward, that brings me to the other reason I'm calling. Strange as it may seem…" I can almost visualize her pouting, "I do need a date for the Abercrombie Foundation's annual dinner tomorrow night. My date had to leave town on business, and I thought it would be a wonderful opportunity for us to reconnect. Do you feel like taking your tuxedo out of mothballs to accompany me? We haven't seen you at any of these events lately."

The Abercrombie Foundation is one of my favourite charities. They fund education and aid in placing disadvantaged and abused children into good homes, a cause close to my own heart. If it were simply another mindless social event, I'd probably refuse. As much as it's deemed necessary to be seen and 'network' with the 'right' crowd for any aspiring DA, I hate the superficial nature of many of the people who attend. My experience with Jane is still very much at the fore or my mind. However, I do have ambitions to become DA one day. It's an elected role, I'll need the support of many of those same people, and Kate is one of the few socialites I can actually stand to be around. She's beautiful, intelligent and we have good chemistry. I'm not sure that I'm ready to get right back into the relationship saddle again, but she's easy to be around and is not the clingy type.

"Sure, Kate. I'd hate to see you having to make the entrance on your own. I'm only doing this to save your reputation, you know." I tease. "Can you text me the details. I have a really busy day tomorrow, but I'll pick you up around half an hour before the scheduled start time. Is that okay?"

"Oh, thank you, Edward. You won't regret it, you'll see." Her voice is laden with promise.

We chat easily for another ten minutes, before I excuse myself, telling her that I have an early start in the morning.

.

.

.

Two hours after we'd entered, Alice and I finally emerge from Judge Chamberlain's chambers.

As predicted, he'd made me work hard to convince him of the validity of issuing the anticipatory warrants. But in the end he conceded that we had sufficient and good reason to believe that evidence would be uncovered at the henchmen's premises. Having made sure that we understood the conditions under which they were issued, he granted us all the warrants. Of course, he knew that we're well versed in the conditions governing anticipatory warrants, but it's just Judge Chamberlain's way to keep what he considers the 'young set' on their toes, and I appreciate that.

Our spirits are buoyed, and we immediately call Jon to share the good news. He agrees to meet us back at our offices so we can hand over the paperwork and go over the plans for the raids once more.

My phone rings just as we enter the lobby of our building. I motion to Alice to go ahead so that I can take the call out here. Reception in the lifts is non-existent.

"Cullen."

"Edward, hey, it's Ben."

"Ben, how's it going, Man. Do you have any information for me?

"Well, Counsellor, it seems like you've been played. There is no record of a person named B. Cygnet. The telephone number you gave me once belonged to a dog pound that's since shut down. I think the lady not only has balls, but a great sense of humor. Do you think she was trying to tell you something?"

"Fuck you, Cheney."

"Sorry, Man, I tried my best. There really is no record."

"Thanks anyway, Ben. I appreciate you trying to help." I sigh thinking about the repair bill for my car. That little bitch, she really has played me!

.

.

.

Kate and I arrive at the charity gala just as the evening gets underway. She walks ahead of me as I join the short queue for valet parking. I admire her statuesque figure as she moves. She's always been beautiful, but tonight she looks stunning with her flaming red hair framing her heart-shaped face, her illuminating grey eyes reminiscent of crystal.

She glides along in a black, backless dress that hugs every curve of her body. The gaggle of press swarms around her instantly. The valet is finally free to take my keys, and I smirk in admiration at how effortlessly she handles the media rabble.

"Ms. Delaney… Kate, over here!"

She turns and strikes a seemingly modest pose, but in reality she knows every angle, which would flatter her the most.

"Kate, are you going stag, or do you have a date for this evening's event?" The same persistent hack questions.

I move quickly to join her, and she instantly links her arm with mine.

"Walter, you know I'd never go solo to events such as these. I'm sure you're familiar with my date."

We're immediately subjected to the incessant clicking of camera shutters and shouted questions.

"Edward, what are your thoughts on Senator Whitlock's alleged involvement in the sex and drug investigation?"

"Now Jill, you should know that I wouldn't comment on an ongoing police investigation. Tonight is a night for raising money for a worthy cause." I brush off the question from a reporter I've encountered several times in the past.

"Edward! Mr. Cullen, this way! Edward, are you and Miss. Delaney in a relationship?"

"Yes, we're in a relationship, we're friends." I deadpan my response and turn to smile at Kate.

"Edward and I are delighted to attend this event. We're both strong supporters of the Abercrombie Foundation and will contribute handsomely tonight. Thank you."

"You handled them like a pro, giving them something, but still keeping them at bay. I'm impressed." I lean in to whisper in her ear.

"Well, I'll never be as good at it as you, Counselor, but I think we make a good team, don't you? And we look damned good together." Her seductive red lips part in a wide smile.

"I can't argue with you there. Can I get you a glass of champagne?"

"Not yet, thank you. You know what champagne does to me, Edward." She teases.

"There's plenty of time for you to ply me with alcohol so that you can have your wicked way with me, Mister Cullen." She taps the tip of my nose playfully, as I place my hand on the small of her back to lead her into the venue.

.

.

Momentarily bored with the conversation going on around me, I stare around the room, taking in the occupants of other tables. There's a veritable 'who's who'' of Boston society here tonight. The grand ballroom we're in must hold at least a thousand people, including influential businessmen, politicians, doyens of society, and even the odd famous Hollywood actor. At five hundred dollars per person the Foundation will do well tonight. The attendees are all big spenders and the auction for luxury goods later will raise a sum equalling or exceeding the attendance revenue.

My eyes come to rest on a group of people two tables away. The slicked-back hair is so black; he must surely color it to keep it that way. That tells me one more thing about him; he's vain. Even though he's smiling as he speaks to the well-known woman on his right, Aro Volturi's eyes remain stony and emotionless. A blond woman, dripping in jewels, flanks him on the left. I recognise her as his wife from the photographs that Jon had showed us.

I continue to stare, the same feeling of knowing or having seen him somewhere before overtakes me. I wrack my brain, trying to determine where and the possible circumstances that could have made such a meeting or sighting possible, but I come up blank. It doesn't matter now, we're going to nail his ass to the mast for the destruction he's caused to the lives of others; hopefully this very night. I have to warn Jon that he's here. They need to know what to expect should they get to search his home tonight.

Just as I'm about to turn to excuse myself to Kate, he looks up. Our eyes lock, and his dead eyes bore into mine unblinkingly. I return his gaze in the same manner. For just a moment, before turning back to his companion, he narrows his eyes and frowns slightly. I wonder if like me, he feels some sense of recognition.

I place my hand on Kate' shoulder as I rise. She looks away from the couple that she's having a conversation with, and I mouth that I'm going to the restroom. She smiles broadly, her hand grasping mine. I squeeze her shoulder lightly before walking away.

I pace the lobby as I wait for him to answer.

"Holmes," he barks out.

"Jon, Edward… where are you?"

"We're just about to enter Fico Moretti's house."

"Well, Aro is here, at the Royale Club. He's fucking sitting at a table across from me, as if he doesn't have a care in the world. His wife's here too, so I don't know who's at their home tonight."

"Okay, Edward. Good to know. If we find what we need here, we'll go ahead with our plans for the Volturi. Our surveillance has established that his mother-in-law turned up last week, so chances are that she'll be there. We'll simply serve her the warrant, and keep her from warning him. Keep your phone on, I'll call you to let you know if we turned up any evidence at their henchmen's."

Two men enter the lobby and stop near me to start a conversation, and I don't want to be overheard.

"Jon, I have to get back. Call me."

"Sure thing." He hangs up, and I make a quick visit to the rest room before returning to the banquet hall. Aro looks up and stares at me as I sit down. I hold his gaze for moments, before I turn my attention to my dinner companions.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I excuse myself once more to take the call in the lobby. Kate looks at me questioningly, and I lean in to whisper, "Work." She nods her head in understanding, and I excuse myself to the person on my other side before I walk out.

"Cullen."

"Edward, we've served the warrants at all three Volturi properties. We've got them!" Jon shouts joyfully.

"Okay, you sure you have enough to charge them with?"

"Without a doubt, we found records of drug deals, financial records, the lot; and we found some very damning evidence about his prostitution business, and possibly the abduction of one girl at least, at Aro's home. We have Caius and Marcus in custody.

"What about Aro?"

"I'm on my way over there now to bring him in. Can you keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't leave? If he looks like he's about to go anywhere; give me a call. I don't think that anyone had the chance to tip him off, so this should come as a complete surprise to him."

"Okay, I'll keep an eye out. He's still sitting at his table; they're just about to serve dessert before the final auction for the night. You want me to stay in there or wait for you in the lobby?"

"Stay, keep an eye on him. I'm on my way with two colleagues now."

I return to the table. Aro is still holding court, dominating the conversation.

I lean down and whisper, asking Kate to follow me, and we excuse ourselves.

I stop just inside the door of the ballroom, so that Aro is still in my line of vision and address her.

"Kate, I'm sorry, but the drug investigation is about to break wide open. The police are going to be here shortly to make an arrest, and I'll be somewhat preoccupied for a while. There are still journalists hanging around, so there's no chance of keeping this out of the media until morning. I'll have to make a press statement immediately after. I could arrange for a driver to take you home, or if you like, you could stay, and I'll take you home after I'm finished doing what I have to. What would you like to do?"

"It's fine, Edward. I understand totally. I'll wait, and don't worry about me. If I see that you can't get away, or if it takes too long, I'll just arrange for a cab.

I sigh in relief. Thank God, Kate's pretty level-headed, and I suppose that having grown up with a father who was an attorney and now a judge, would have prepared her for events such as this. She doesn't even ask who's about to be arrested.

Kate returns to the table, while I make a quick call to Alice to fill her in. She lets me know that she's already spoken with Jon and asks whether I want her to join us. I tell her that it's not necessary and arrange to meet her in the office at six a.m. tomorrow. I look at my watch, that's only about eight hours from now.

My phone buzzes again, and I bring it to my ear and speak quietly into it.

"Edward, we're here. We have two cars, a squad car and mine. He'll be transported in the squad car."

"I'm standing at the door to the ballroom, I'll see you soon." Aro is now talking in his wife's ear.

Jon taps me on the shoulder, and I don't take my eyes off Aro as I speak. "I'll walk to my table; follow close behind me. He's sitting at two tables down from mine, at three o'clock position." He squeezes my shoulder to indicate that he understands, and I move forward.

As I take my seat, Aro looks up and meets my eye. His eyes narrow as he sees Jon and the two men approach. He pales visibly, but his expression doesn't alter. He returns his gaze to mine briefly, and he smirks evilly. It's clear that at some time during the evening, he's discovered who I am. And he either recognizes Jon, or given what he now knows of my identity, he's put two and two together and come up with the right answer. He turns to rapidly whisper something to his wife; his head's turned away, so I can't make out what it is. He then gets up, straightens his jacket and walks to meets Jon. He says something to him and tries to walk past him.

You have to give it to the guy; he has balls. He was not going to be arrested like a common thief, and he was not going to make a run for it. Instead, he was trying to dictate the terms under which he'd be arrested, arrogant prick. But Jon's not having any of it. He lays his hands firmly on Aro's shoulder, stopping his progress. He then hands him over to the two detectives; one cuffs him and leads him away. People at surrounding tables are stunned into silence, but Aro ignores their gaping stares. As he passes our table, he stares at me with those dead, baleful eyes. "See you in court, Counsellor."

.

.

.

I blink briefly into the glare of the spotlights, while Jon stands stoically by my side. The press pack has grown significantly, with the arrival of the news journalists. No doubt one or more of them have contacts at this venue to tip them off to anything of note happening. They're all going nuts.

"Counsellor, why was Mr Volturi arrested tonight?

"Mr Cullen, was Aro Volturi arrested in relation to the drug and sex investigation?"

"Counsellor… what has Mr Volturi been charged with?

"Edward, Edward…"

I tap the microphone on the makeshift podium. We had planned to call a formal press conference in the morning, but with the press lingering as Jon and his men led Aro out, and as predicted, we had no option but to make a statement tonight. I turn to address the impatient and noisy horde.

"I will make a short statement, then Chief Detective Holmes and I will take a few questions." I glance around briefly. The pack is ravenous tonight, sensing something tangible at last in the story that they've been relentlessly pursuing for weeks.

"Tonight, the Boston police department, after a long and ongoing investigation searched the homes of Caius, Aro and Marcus Volturi, as well as those of three of their henchmen. As a result of evidence found, several arrests have been made. Some of you have obviously been witness to the arrest of Mr Aro Volturi, and that's why we've called this impromptu press conference to set the record straight. Charges will be laid within the mandatory time-frame, and we'll provide details of those when appropriate. Now we'll take one question at a time, please."

Jon and I are subjected to a barrage of questions, including a number about Jasper's involvement, but we dissuade them from pursuing _that _matter, we don't want their snooping to jeopardize our investigations. After about fifteen minutes, I decide to call an end.

"Thank you ladies and gentlemen. As you can see Detective Holmes has a lot to do tonight, and the DA's office has a lot of work ahead of it." I step back from the microphone.

"Thanks, Edward. Christ, I hate those bastards nearly as much as I hate the crims."

Jon says as we make our way over to his car and out of earshot of the press gallery.

"An unwelcome, but sometimes necessary and useful part of what we do, Jon." I commiserate, and he nods his agreement.

I wasn't joking when I'd said that he had a lot of work to do tonight. He has five members of the Volturi organization in custody. He has to process each of them and complete paperwork, and he has to ensure that they're kept apart so that they can't collaborate their stories.

And Alice and I have to determine exactly what charges to lay; in effect what we will be charging them with to keep them in custody, and then putting them on trial for. I advise Jon about my and Alice's meeting in the morning. Despite the long night he has ahead of him, and before I can ask, he tells me that he'll be there. We really are working like members of one team, and will continue to do so, until we actually lay charges and go to trial.

Alice and I will build the state's case against the six we've arrested tonight, whilst Jon continues his investigation to bring in the other district leaders and their henchmen, and any one else connected to the crimes.

As Jon's car pulls away, I make my way back inside to meet up with Kate, who has been waiting patiently for me to escort her home.

.

.

.

I pull up in front of her townhouse. Neither of us has said much since leaving the Royale. I've been processing the events of the evening, and I'm sure that she's been waiting on me to elaborate on them.

"I apologize for the unexpected turn of events this evening. This is probably not what you expected."

She scoffs softly then smiles.

"On the contrary, I knew _exactly_ what I was expecting when I asked you to accompany me to this event, Edward?" She smiles seductively.

"Touché', Miss Delaney."

We stare out of the window silently; my mind is already tabling everything we need to accomplish in the next twenty-four hours before we have to formally charge the Volturi or petition for extra time to hold them in custody. We need to go through most, if not all, of the evidence discovered in tonight's raids to establish exactly what to charge them with. We should be able, within twenty-four hours, to lay at least one indisputable charge. We can go through the evidence and add further charges as we work our way up to trial. But our first priority is to keep them in custody, and at the arraignment, prevent them from getting bail. As if she's able to read my mind, Kate breaks the silence.

"So…you're probably going to be busy for quite a while…"

"The busiest I've ever been, I think. This will be the biggest and most complicated case of this nature that this state has ever seen. I don't anticipate having much spare time for quite some time."

"I suppose any hope of us having a nightcap is out of the question."

I look at her, realising that it will probably be a long while before I get to enjoy her company again.

I turn off the engine and remove the keys from the ignition.

"Invite me up."

She dims the lights to her plushly decorated living room. I remove my jacket and tie and move over to the bar to pour us both a glass of brandy. She cups the balloon glass in her palm seductively and sniffs the amber liquid, looking at me over the rim.

"This is going to be a long, drawn out trial, Edward. You're going to have your work cut out for you."

"I love a challenge, you know that." I draw her into a smouldering kiss. She moulds her body to mine enticingly, then pulls away.

"Easy, counsellor, what kind of girl do you take me for?" She challenges me saucily and saunters away, swaying her hips. She's always been a tease.

"You're about to tackle the biggest case of your career." She slowly discards her stilettos.

"And? How does that affect what we do tonight." I play along suggestively as I sip my drink and slowly approach her.

"It has plenty to do with what's _about_ to happen." She reaches back and slowly drags down her zipper. Her dress pools at her feet, and I drink in the sight of her body, barely encased in black lace. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

"You'll need to elaborate on that, Miss Delaney."

"Will I? Then I must be doing something wrong." She sheds the miniscule pieces of fabric and tosses them at me, one piece at a time. They drop tantalisingly at my feet. She joins them there and kneels down. She jerks me forward by the buckle of my belt and undoes it effortlessly. Her delicate fingers run down the length of my erection as she undoes my zipper.

"Feels like you're doing it right to me."

"Good," She chuckles seductively. "Because tomorrow you'll take care of business and tonight…" She slowly drags my trousers and underwear down my legs, then she looks up at me, and her tongue moves tantalisingly over her voluptuous red lips, "…tonight, I'll take care of you."


	7. Chapter 7, Don't Compromise Yourself

**Counsel: Chapter 6 – Don't Compromise Yourself**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to the wonderful Stephanie Meyer.**

**All original characters and story lines belong to WriteSisters.**

_"__Don't compromise yourself – you're all you have." - John Grisham, The Rainmaker_

**EPOV**

The room looks like a bomb's hit it. The table is littered with files, laptops and empty coffee cups. Boxes are piled up in one corner of the room; boxes of material we've yet to go through.

Jon gets up to stretch his back. "How about a ten minute break before getting back to it?" He wanders over to the coffee pot to pour a cup, and holds it up to Alice and me.

"I need to stretch my legs, I think I'll wander downstairs and pick up a decent coffee. Can I get either of you something?" I decide against the sludge on offer.

"Why don't we _all_ wander down and grab something to eat. We can bring it back and keep working." Alice decides for all of us, and I glance at my watch.

"Shit, is that the time already? You're right, let's do that." It's ten past twelve; we've been at it for close to six hours now. There's a veritable mountain of information to go through. Jon and his team really hit pay dirt last night. When they started the search of the Volturi properties, it seemed like they'd come up empty. But thanks to the persistence and good instincts of one young detective, we've got them.

She discovered a hidden room at the back of Caius' basement. It was ingenuous, really. Without the extraordinary observational skills of this relative rookie, who realised that the size of the basement seemed disproportionate to the overall length of the house, we wouldn't have cracked the case. She followed her gut instinct, and inspected the exterior of the house, then quickly realized that the back wall of the basement ended just below the area above where Caius' office is. Her suspicions were raised, and she returned to his office and had a closer look at the wall backing onto that area. A bookcase spanned the entire length of the wall. On closer inspection, she discovered that a section of it could swing away. Hidden behind it and down a set of stairs, was the 'missing' section of the basement.

When they entered the room, they found that it housed computers, documents and weapons; the smoking gun we'd been looking for. Officers had previously turned his office over and found nothing incriminating. The Volturi are smart. The entire wall of bookcases had been constructed in sections that appeared to fit seamlessly together. At face value, there was no obvious reason to suspect that one of those sections was moveable.

But this intrepid young woman, who acted on her intuition and excellent observational skills, made the difference. I have no doubt that after we've gained convictions in this case, that she'll be rewarded for her part in bringing them down.

Once they'd made the discovery at Caius', it was relatively simple for Jon to assume that the same set-up would be duplicated in the homes of Marcus and Aro. His assumption proved to be correct, and the teams at those locations made easy work of gathering evidence.

There are still a number of boxes from Caius and Marcus' home to go through, but we've got enough evidence to lay charges, which will ensure that they'll remain in custody until the trial. We'll go through the haul from Aro's place when we return.

"So, Edward, what charges do you want to lay against Caius and Marcus?" Jon asks as we walk back to the office.

"Importation and distribution of drugs, for a start. We've got the paper and money trail for the shipments coming in from Mexico and Colombia. Those bastards have agreements almost as detailed as any major business corporation would have with international suppliers. They have deals going with three of the major Mexican cartels, right under our fucking noses!" I spit out.

"Extortion for another," Alice adds. "Those notes from local business owners are proof that they've been extorting money for years from those poor people. God knows what threats they've made to stop them from going to the police. In some cases, they've been taking forty per cent of their income."

"Good, that's what I thought." Jon nods appreciatively. "There's no way a judge would grant them bail based on those charges, and once they're convicted they'll be going away for a long, long time." He finishes with a note of satisfaction.

.

.

We're each poring through a box of evidence from Aro's place, meticulously tabling what we find and occasionally interrupting the others when we uncover some major piece of information. My blood boils as I read of his prostitution business. He has the women working for him listed as if they were no more than products for sale; their names, age, nationality, physical attributes and hourly or nightly rate.

Some are no more than girls; the youngest is aged seventeen, for Christ's sakes. Several are Mexican or Colombian. I find the piece of information, which I'm sure Jon was alluding to last night, and I stare at the press clipping. It's a picture of a young girl, with a large headline above it. I don't speak or read Spanish, but I understand one word, 'secuestrar', which I know means kidnapped. I'd come across it in another case some years ago. Her name is Maria Rivera, that much I can tell from the caption below her picture. She looks to be no more than sixteen in the photograph. Why would Aro be holding onto this clipping?

"Alice, do we have anyone in the office who is fluent in Spanish? I look up and ask.

"Yes, Gracia Martinez. She recently started as a secretary downstairs. Why?"

I hand her the press clipping. "Can you get her up here to translate this, please?"

Alice stares at the clipping, and I can see that she immediately makes the same connection I do. She clamps her lips into a straight line. Without a word, she gets up and goes over to the photocopier we'd moved into the conference room. She hands me the original back and leaves the room abruptly.

"What was that all about?" Jon stares at the door where Alice has just exited, a look of concern etched on his face; more concern that the simple act of her leaving the room should engender. I wonder if Jon has feelings for Alice? I push down that thought. For all I know, he could be a happily married man.

"She's just seen the press clipping about Maria Rivera, which I'm sure was what you were referring to when you mentioned a possible abduction last night? She's gone to get someone who can read Spanish to interpret it for us. We'll get an official translation for the record later."

He nods, instantly understanding, and we both return to what we'd been doing. I continue to peruse the list of girls working for Aro. At the end of the document, on a page of its own, is a single listing, with no details recorded beside it. It simply reads, 'The Swan'.

Before I can ponder this anomaly further, the door opens, and Alice enters with a shy-looking young woman. "Gracia, this is Edward Cullen, ADA and Chief Detective Jon Holmes," she says reassuringly. I smile warmly to put her at ease. "Hello, Gracia, we're grateful for your help. Could you please read the article out loud?"

She nods her head and tentatively starts reading. "Daughter of Business Tycoon Kidnapped. Maria Rivera, younger daughter of Estaban Rivera, real estate tycoon, was abducted from her school yesterday. No ransom has been requested so far. Her parents have made an impassioned plea for information from the public and have offered a reward of five million pesos for any information leading to her return."

She reads the article in its entirety. When she leaves, I go back to the list of names, but there is no reference to a Maria Rivera. We'd have to find each of these women to determine whether one of them is indeed the kidnapped girl. If she is, we can add that charge to Aro's list. Like his brothers, we intend charging him with importation and distribution of drugs, plus the additional charges of illegal prostitution. And now, it appears that there might be a possibility of abduction as well.

The evidence seized from Caius' property provides tangible proof of their drug importation, whilst the documents found at the homes of Marcus, Aro and their henchmen detail the elaborate distribution and sales networks. Unlike at Aro's, no evidence of prostitution has yet been discovered amongst his brothers' documents. It makes me wonder if he was running the prostitution business without their knowledge.

By late afternoon, we're satisfied that we have sufficient evidence to formally charge the six. The three Volturi brothers will be charged with importation and distribution of drugs, and their henchmen will be charged with distribution of drugs.

Aro is the only one being charged with illegal prostitution at this point. We're not discounting the fact that we may later find evidence, which implicates his brothers. Should we find any trace of Maria Rivera when we locate the women on his list, a charge of abduction will be added to his crimes. This charge would have to be tried in a federal court as the kidnapping took place in another country. I'd like to get him convicted in Massachusetts on the other charges before we have to hand him over to the Feds.

Their own arrogance has been responsible for ending the Volturi's many years of law evasion. They'd assumed the mantle of corporate moguls, emulating the people whose acceptance they'd so desperately been seeking. They've drawn up seemingly binding contracts with criminal rings and drug cartels, keeping records of every transaction. In effect, their ambition to be viewed and behave as corporate giants has been at the heart of their undoing.

Jon will be leaving here to formally lay charges before the twenty-four hour deadline expires. Their lawyers will, no doubt, be asking for a quick arraignment to try and get them out on bail. Bring it on, I say.

We still have a ton of evidence to go through and investigations to conduct. I'll speak to the DA about getting help for Alice and me in sifting through every piece of evidence before we go to trial. We'll immediately start locating and bringing in witnesses, including the women working in Aro's prostitution business.

After Jon's departure, Alice and I decide to keep looking through the already opened boxes. We work in silent companionship, and again, I'm surprised at just how well Alice and I have slipped into this effective, but comfortable working pattern.

"Edward, look at this," her excited voice calls out, holding up two documents.

I lean over to read the page she's pushed under my nose. It documents the owners and directors of one of Aro's companies. "Fidelity Properties is a medium sized company that buys commercial properties and undertakes their development for re-sale." Alice adds.

I follow the finger she eagerly stabs at a particular section on the page. Jasper is listed as having a thirty per cent stake in the company. She then holds out the second document and points to another line. It shows that New Moon, the home of Aro's elite prostitution business, is owned by Fidelity Properties.

I breathe out a sigh. I've been waiting for this shoe to drop, and truth be known, I'd desperately been hoping that the rumors would remain just that; that we'd end up finding no evidence tying Jasper to this sordid business. But now, here it is, in black and white. I can no longer deny that Jasper plays a role in this case. How big a role, we don't know yet, but this is enough to bring him in.

"You should know, Alice, that Jasper Whitlock and I were friends at university. I've already told Gerard Beazley this. He feels confident that there is no conflict of interest, and that I would not favor Jasper in any way. But as my co-counsel, who I'm rapidly learning to trust more each day, I feel that you should know."

She turns around and places her hand on my forearm. "Edward, I have no doubt in your integrity…_at all__,_" she stresses. "If Jasper Whitlock is in anyway involved, I'm confident that you'll prosecute him in the same way that you would any other criminal. I hope for the sake of your friendship that this is some kind of mistake, or that he isn't aware of the criminal side of either of these businesses."

We go through the rest of the box together and uncover a detailed list of New Moon's exclusive membership. Some of the names on the list astound me, these people are all respected members of Boston's society; some of them are old enough to be grandfathers for fuck's sake. I think of their respectable and in many cases, downright snooty wives, and can't help but smirk at the surprise they're in for should they ever find out about their husband's extracurricular activities.

We also find a letter mentioning an agreement between Jasper and Aro under which, Isabella Swan is to act as an escort to the senator. There is no trace of the said agreement amongst the documents, but I have no doubt that we'll uncover it at some stage. My stomach twists at the thought of Jasper getting involved in an arrangement such as this. He's a good looking, wealthy and charming man, and a state senator to boot. Why would he need to enter into an agreement for a paid escort, when he could have the pick of any woman in Boston society or beyond? This woman must be something else. And now the reference to 'The Swan' on Aro's list makes sense. It still doesn't explain why hers is the only name with no detail listed. As I've said, the woman must be something else, and I can't wait to find out what it is about her that garners such special attention.

I place a phone call to Jon and detail our findings. I advise him that at this stage, we have sufficient evidence to question and most likely charge Jasper under suspicion of racketeering; that is, benefiting from the proceeds of a crime. These charges could be upgraded, but we'd need to find more evidence on just how much knowledge he had of the prostitution business, and also whether or not he knew anything about Aro's other illegal activities. Either way, he's in a lot of trouble.

.

.

.

Mom had called earlier to invite me home for dinner. At first I declined, telling her that I'd only be leaving the office around seven, but she insisted that the family would hold dinner over until I arrive. I've never been able to resist her, so I agreed; besides, I love my mother's cooking.

Alice and I have done all we can for the day, and we're packing up. Jon has charged the Volturi brothers and their henchmen. An arraignment date has been set for two days from now.

He will also be bringing in Jasper this evening. We've agreed that given his position, the police should be very discreet. Jon has said that he'd make the arrest as unobtrusive as he can. We want to avoid another media circus at all costs.

I rush home for a quick shower and change and immediately make my way over to my parents' home. My phone alerts me to an incoming message, and I check it just before entering my car.

"The rooftop, six-thirty tomorrow evening."

I immediately know who the sender is. It would appear that Jon has already brought Jasper in. I return my phone to my pocket; I'll deal with him tomorrow.

.

.

Almost as soon as I sit down in the living room with a beer, Rose slaps a newspaper onto the coffee table in front of me. I look up at her and glare. "What the hell?" I say out loud, and Dad and Emmett laugh.

"Language, Edward!" Mom immediately calls out from the kitchen. Rose smirks and points at the paper.

There are two pictures of me. The first, entering the Royale with Kate, and the other, taken later that evening standing in front of the podium with Jon at our impromptu press conference. The headline emblazoned across the two reads, "Boston's New Power Couple?

I roll my eyes and blow out a long, frustrated breath. Rose's only response is to arch a skeptical brow.

"Media hype." I play it down and return to my beer. She holds out both arms, elbows bent, and raises up both index and pinkie fingers; a sign for 'bullshit'. My father chortles in amusement, and Emmett, being who he is, practically brays like a donkey as he laughs.

"I dare you to say it out loud, dear sister." I lift my chin in challenge and waggle it at the kitchen where Mom's finishing dinner.

"Bullshit." She enunciates slowly and loudly. Mom immediately pokes her head into the room, and with a look of astonishment, admonishes her.

"Rosie!

Rose immediately feigns contrition by silently mouthing, "I'm sorry," to which Mom smiles forgivingly.

I shake my head at what our mother fails to see; while she's so busily forgiving Rose for her feigned apology, my father and Emmett are both making the alternative sign for bullshit as they each form the letter 'C' around their nose, and close their hand in a fist, then turn the palm of the hand toward their noses. I ignore Emmett; I expect no less from him, but narrow my eyes at my father. They both burst into gales of renewed laughter.

"I'm going to start a swearing jar. I should've done that when the two of you first started using profanities," Mom continues to chastise Rose and me. "Perhaps then you wouldn't be quite so loose with the foul language. No more cursing, please?" She waves a long–handled wooden spoon between us before withdrawing to the kitchen.

Rose motions for me to spill the beans.

"We're not dating, it was a last minute thing. She needed a date, and I was available, _and _it was for a good cause."

Emmett comes over and pretends that he hadn't seen the article. He hums interest as he reads. "I don't know, Counsel, the two of you look awfully cosy. Power couple, eh?" He holds up the paper to show my father.

"She looks like a winner, not bad on the eye. Maybe you should keep your options open, Son." My father gets in on the act.

"We're not dating." I repeat through gritted teeth.

"I think we need to get the gang's opinion on this." Emmett tears out the offending page and tucks it into his back pocket. He's built like a grizzly, but I'll wrestle him to the ground if necessary, it wouldn't be the first time it would come to that.

"Give that back, Em." I jump up and wiggle my fingers for him to hand it over. He smiles tauntingly and backs away.

"Can you imagine what Vic will say when she sees this?"

"Vic? I thought you were dating Jane?" My father frowns in confusion. Rose doubles over as Emmett tries to ease past me, and I grab him from behind, locking him into a bear hug.

"Give me that, or we'll be spending the evening like this."

"Sorry, Edward, but you're not my type." He reaches into his pocket and hands over the clipping.

"Thank you." I say triumphantly as I snatch it from him.

"Hey, the rest of the guys may not see that, but Victoria will, and she's _gonna tell_," he singsongs childishly.

"Screw you, dick."

"Edward!" My mother gasps as she re-enters with the roast. She sets the platter on the table and reaches into a cabinet for an empty jar and holds it out to me. "In the jar, buddy."

.

.

.

The sunset casts streaks of tangerine and pink across the sky, and I wonder how something so beautiful can make me think of hell. It may well be because of the dread I've been feeling in the pit of my stomach since first reading his text. Or it may well be because I believe that this is what the proverbial calm before the storm must feel like. I already sense the fracturing of a friendship that I'd always questioned the depth and strength of.

I climb the stairs to the fire escape that leads to the roof. His back is turned as he leans over the guardrail, seemingly also enjoying the spectacle of the evening sky. I wonder if like me, he senses the momentous shift in our relationship.

"Six-thirty on the dot, you always were the prompt one." He chuckles softly.

"No need to pussyfoot around. What do you want, James?"

"Right to it, huh, no stroll down memory lane?" He glances at me over his shoulder, and the rapidly setting sun casts a shadow across his face.

"It's been years since we've seen or spoken to each another, James. I'm sure you haven't called me here for tea and crumpets."

"Could never fool you, Edward. But just for old time sake…will this do? I'm afraid I'm all out of crumpets."

My eyes shift to his outstretched hand, holding a bottle of Guinness. I stare at him for moments, before I move to accept his offering. If this is the game he wants to play, then I'll indulge him… for now. I'll let him take the lead; I want to know exactly what it is that he wants. I raise the bottle to my lips, and he smirks triumphantly.

So like James, always trying to finesse the situation to suit his objective, and once again, I allow him to think that he has me fooled. He leans back over the guardrail, and I join him and stare at the darkening sky.

"How's Rose, I heard that she decided to have the surgery?"

I fleetingly think about James and Rose's brief dating history. He'd laid eyes on her when she visited me on campus, and her beauty had instantly taken him in. I also remember the red-hot anger that overtook me when I found out. I knew of James' reputation, and I recall bailing him up against a wall and threatening to sever any chance he may have of fathering the next generation, if he hurt my sister in any way. Luckily for me, Rose had her head screwed on right and never did fall for his particular line of bullshit. Nevertheless, I was thankful when she started dating Emmett. Needless to say, I had the same conversation with him. Well, without bailing him up against the wall.

I bring my attention back to James. "She's doing well. The surgery was successful the cochlear implant has restored a great deal of her hearing."

He nods his satisfaction at the news. We drink our beer and stare out over the horizon in awkward silence. I wish he'd just get to the point; I'd respect him more if he did. All this small talk is just a stalling tactic, his attempt to get me off guard, to engender a feeling of obligation because of our past association. I know that he once cared for Rose, but she had the surgery some years ago, he could have contacted me before, if he was really that interested.

"Déjà vu, huh?" He finally speaks.

"Not quite."

"Do you remember the last time we were up here? It signaled the start of an exciting new phase for us, we didn't have a care in the world that night."

"Yeah, I have to admit that it was pretty amazing. The feeling of potential was almost overwhelming."

He smirks even wider as he turns to look at me. "You doubted me, but I told you that we'd live life to the fullest on that night, and I also went on to predict bright futures for all of us. Did I lie?"

"No…you didn't." I deadpan.

He looks off into the distance. "I miss that…The Three Musketeers."

"We're no longer in college, James. This is the real world."

"All for one and one for all, Edward. That oath was meant to be forever. Have you forgotten that?" He accuses.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Good, because one of us is in trouble."

So, we finally get to the point.

"This conversation has to be off the record, Edward. Can I trust you as a friend to…"

"Stop right there, James. I'd advise you not to say anything to me that I'll be able to use against Jasper. As his friend that would be irresponsible of you, and if you've been appointed as his defense attorney…" I stop to stare pointedly at him.

"I assume that you have been appointed to act in his defense?" He nods his head sharply just once.

"Well, then as his defense attorney, I'd advise you to follow due process and set up an official meeting, _on the record_, to discuss your client's case."

He clamps his lips into at tight line and narrows his eyes at me.

"Jasper's career will be ruined by this. He's worked too hard to get where he is for that to happen. You know as well as I do, that Jasper has ambitions that go beyond state politics. This will kill his dream."

"He should have thought of that before he got involved with known criminals."

"Ohhh," He drags out the word and raises his brow in sardonic disbelief. "So, _this_ is him; the _'__bastard'_ your reputation makes you out to be."

"Well, James, only criminals seem to call me that. I make no excuses for being good at what I do. _I've _worked too hard for that."

He nods his head; I don't think it's in acknowledgement. It seems more like he's confirmed a theory. He obviously expected this response from me. Well, he's certainly living up to my expectations of him, as well as what I'd always believed his view of our relationship was; that I was somehow obligated to them for befriending me.

"So, Jasper be damned?" He challenges.

"_Jasper _is not my priority, James. Putting the Volturi behind bars where they belong is. Jasper has either knowingly, or naively gotten himself caught up in this mess. The responsibility for that lies solely with him. He's a fucking lawyer for God's sake, he should have known better."

"So he's just collateral damage to you?"

"No, he's not collateral damage, James. He's been arrested under suspicion of racketeering, and he'll be treated as such."

_"Damn it! _Do you hear yourself?" He whirls around angrily.

"You're a defense attorney James, you know the legal system. What would you do…or the better question is, what would you propose that I do?"

"Recuse yourself, Edward," he responds without hesitation.

And there it is, the true reason for this meeting. As always, James believes that he's the puppet master; that he can manipulate people and situations into being what he wants.

I scoff lightly and turn to walk away. He moves quickly to stop me and bars my way.

"It's the right thing to do…"

"The _right_ thing to do, James, is for me, as public prosecutor, to serve the people of Massachusetts. To bring all criminals to justice."

"_Jasper_ is our friend, not some common criminal. Recuse yourself, Edward, you owe it to him, you owe it to us."

"What's wrong with you, James? Firstly, I don't owe either of you a thing, especially not ignoring a crime. And secondly, even if I did recuse myself, someone else would prosecute this case. Jasper will still have to face the charges brought against him. There's no getting around it."

"I'm not worried about other prosecutors; I know your reputation, Edward. You're like a dog with a bone. You're ruthless. I can win this case for Jasper; I can keep him out of prison. I just want to ensure that I get the best chance of doing that, and my best chance is to not have you prosecute."

"You're delusional if you think he's going to come away from this unscathed." I walk away.

"Counsel…"

"No." I stop abruptly and turn to face him. "I'm prosecuting this case, and I know that you'll mount the best possible defense for Jasper, James. I have faith in that. I'll see you in court, Counselor."

I take the long way home, wanting the time to clear my thoughts. My conversation with James rolls around in my head, like a grumbling thunderstorm that won't be abated. I'd expected that James would try to use our friendship as a bargaining tool; that he'd try to instil guilt in me. I'd always known, that at some point, either one or both of them would expect me to pay a price for their friendship. This is a price I'm not prepared to pay, there are people I owe more to than James and Jasper. I won't be compromised.

* * *

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	8. Chapter 8, He's Busy Taking the Fifth

**Counsel: Chapter 7 – He's Busy Taking the Fifth.**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephanie Meyer. No copy infringement intended. All original story and plot lines and characters in Counsel belong to WriteSisters.**

_"He's busy taking the fifth" – John Grisham, The Client_

**EPOV**

"Your honor, my client should not be here. This is a case of guilt by association, which I once again point out, is a travesty of justice."

I listen dispassionately to James' histrionics. This is an arraignment for fuck sake, not a trial, and he's not making his closing argument. He'll have ample opportunity to plead his client's case at the appropriate time.

I feel certain that the only reason Judge Harrison hasn't called him to order, is out of deference to a member of the state senate being before her. It's not because she's granting any special favors to Jasper, it's out of respect for the position he holds. And knowing what I do of her, she's probably decided this once to allow James' lapse in protocol.

Jasper has been charged with racketeering, specifically profiting from an illegal business, namely prostitution. He's also facing other related charges such as enticing away persons for prostitution and soliciting for prostitution.

The next steps in his case will be a pre-trial conference, which is essentially a meeting between the prosecutor and defence to discuss matters such as plea bargain opportunities, a possible out of court settlement, and the strengths and weaknesses in the prosecutor's case. Generally the defence will raise other factors such as the defendant's character and past history as the basis for a plea bargain. In Jasper's case, I expect that James will raise his good standing in the community, his family's history, and Jasper's own blemish-free record until now. But this is a felony, not a misdemeanour; a crime such as this can't simply be brushed away by prior good citizenship.

If our rooftop meeting is any indication of what James' approach will be, we're in for yet another explosive confrontation. Knowing James as I do, he won't easily forgive what he views as my betrayal. I have no doubt that he'd mount a formidable defense; I _want_ him to. I only hope he doesn't turn this into a personal battle between him and me, rather than it being all about Jasper's case. But James has always underestimated me. So, no matter on what grounds he chooses to fight this case, I will do what I believe is right.

After the pre-trial conference, a preliminary hearing is held, where both the prosecution and defence places documentation in front of the judge outlining their case, including their evidence and witnesses, and then the court determines whether there is sufficient evidence to send the case to trial. If the court decides that there is, the defendant is arraigned in a superior court, where his or her identify is confirmed, charges are ascertained, the attorney of record is confirmed and then a trial date is set.

For James to start his defense this early, means he's either doing it for show, or he's making a calculated tactical move, seeking to influence the judge in preparation for the preliminary hearing. It's an interesting but risky strategy, which could well backfire on him. I much prefer to keep my gunpowder dry.

"Given my client's position, reputation and standing in society, I submit that he does _not_ pose a flight risk. He intends to stay in Boston and prove his innocence, protect his reputation and his family's legacy." James finally gets to the point, and Judge Harrison turns to me.

"Counsellor, do you have any objections to this request?"

I stand to address the court. "Your honor, the state does not have any objection to Senator Whitlock being released on bail on his own recognizance. I concur with his attorney's assessment that he doesn't pose a flight risk."

Alice and I had already agreed that we wouldn't oppose Jasper's release on bail. His freedom pending trial poses no risk to our continued investigation into both his and the cases of the Volturi brothers and their henchmen. There is no legal reason to fight against bail.

"Bail is set at two million dollars. Your client is free to leave, and is subject to the conditions of his bail as soon as the requisite amount is posted, Counsellor." Judge Harrison determines almost as soon as I'd spoken.

Jasper has sat stoically throughout the hearing; he's not spoken, even to James, except to address the court to confirm his identity. He was pale and stone faced while listening to the charges being read. He did not acknowledge me, except for his gaze briefly locking with mine as he was led in. His only reaction had been a darkening of his blue-grey eyes, which I thought reflected a mixture of shame and regret.

I, on the other hand, have tried to keep my expression open, to let him know that I bear him no ill will, that I'm simply doing my job. I don't know if Jasper shares James' view, and whether he too had expected me to recuse myself. He's clearly not ready for any kind of interaction, or given the situation, he may have decided that he wants none. Either way, I have decided to take my lead from him.

I haven't gotten the same sense of animosity from him as I did from James, but we clearly both sense the rift in our relationship, the new divide that may always have existed, but which had remained hidden whilst there was nothing to test the strength of our friendship.

When I first saw him enter, I couldn't help the twinge of regret at seeing him in this position. I still fail to understand how and why he'd made the decisions that got him here, but unlike James, I have no doubt that Jasper's political career will be over; and that saddens me. Not for the man standing here accused of a crime, but for the man he once was, the promise he once offered, and for the friendship we once shared.

I wait until he's led away, before I turn to Alice as she places her hand on my forearm. "Are you all right? She shows her concern. I smile at her, "Yes, thanks. That went just as we predicted."

"It did, except for the rather…unique approach by opposing counsel," she smirks.

"Yes, James has always had a flair for showmanship." I return her smirk. "He, Jasper and I attended Harvard together." I decide to fill her in on the missing piece of the puzzle.

She raises her brow in astonishment, "Well, this is going to be even more interesting. I'm sorry that your friendships will be tested like this, Edward."

"Counsellor, getting cosy with co-Counsel I see. I'm sorry to interrupt your little tete-a-tete with official proceedings, but I'd like to arrange a meeting with you, _on the record_." James cuts across our conversation.

"Listen here…" Alice responds angrily, but I place my hand on her elbow. This is exactly what James wants, to get under our skin, and I refuse to play his game.

"Of course, James." I reach into my jacket pocket and retrieve a business card. "Contact my office, my assistant will set up an appointment for you. Perhaps you should hurry along, your client must be waiting for you. " I stare at him for a moment, before I turn back to Alice. "Ready?"

.

.

.

Alice pops her head into my office, interrupting my perusal of the evidence incriminating Jasper. I'm familiarising myself with all the detail in preparation for my upcoming meeting with James, which has been scheduled for the next day.

"Edward, Bristly has confirmed that Victoria Knowles and Neil Forbes have been made available to help us sift through the evidence. Do you want me to liaise with them or will you?"

"Would you mind doing it? I'm really into this right now, and I need to get on top of this before my meeting with defence counsel tomorrow."

"Sure thing, how's it going anyway?" She stands in front of my desk.

"Well, Jasper is in a world of trouble. The documentation on Fidelity Properties well and truly implicates him. His co-ownership can't be disputed, and the fact that Fidelity owns New Moon, the hub for the most profitable part of Aro's prostitution business, is equally clear. It doesn't shed light on why he would enter into such an agreement, but given the information from Jon about the coincidence in the rumored timing of his partnership with Aro and Isabella Swan being assigned to him exclusively, I feel that this she is somehow the key to the riddle. Other than the letter that mentions an agreement for her services, I haven't found anything yet that provides further insight. I was about to call Jon to locate her and bring her in for questioning."

"Makes sense. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help you prepare for tomorrow."

"Thanks, but I think I'll be fine. If you can concentrate on finalising things for the arraignment hearings for the Volturi and their henchmen, that would be great. You and I can go through it once you have it ready."

"Will do, _Counsellor_," she smiles at me cheekily before breezing out.

"Holmes." He answers almost immediately.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Busy, as I'm sure you are. We've picked up a couple more of the Volturi street dealers, but we haven't gained any more material evidence. They'll just go through the usual justice system, the more of these parasites we can get off the street, the better." He lets out a frustrated breath.

"How are you going in locating the women on Aro's list and other potential witnesses? We need to bring them in for questioning as soon as possible."

"We're working our way through the list, Edward. I'll let you have the details of our progress by the end of the week."

"Great, Jon. I look forward to that, but the person I'd like you to concentrate on immediately, is Isabella Swan. We need to locate her, but I also want to know everything we can find out about her. I think she's key to the Whitlock case."

"Okay, I'll get onto that personally and get back to you. Anything else?"

"No, thanks, Jon. Not at this stage, but let's keep in touch, yeah?"

"Sure thing, Edward. Bye."

I hang up the phone and get back to going through the box containing the Fidelity Property evidence. I give up about an hour later. I can't find anything that relates to the agreement between Aro and Jasper for Isabella Swan's services. I look at my watch. Damn! Where does the time go? I decide to walk down the street to get something to eat and to pick up Alice on the way so that we can catch up on our morning.

I hear raised voices as I approach Alice's office.

"Edward and I, Edward and I, that's all I hear from you. I wouldn't get my hopes up, if I were you."

"You're being ridiculous. I don't see Edward that way at all. We're professionals, which is more than I can say for you right now!" Alice's voice rings out in barely controlled anger.

"All _Edward and I_ want from you on this case, is for you to be professional and do your job. We need to gather every vital piece of evidence to prepare our case to bring some heinous criminals to justice. I have no ulterior motive here; that is my sole concern. Now, if this is proving to be too big a job for you to handle, Victoria, I'll ask Edward to speak to the DA and have someone else do it."

"You'll speak to Edward? I've known Edward since we were kids; we have a special relationship. I'm not some junior who needs an intermediary to speak to Counsel, I can speak to him myself."

"Oh for God's sake, woman. Firstly, I did not just decide to speak to you about what we need from you on this case, _Edward_ asked me to; and for the last time, I don't have any designs on Edward Cullen, irresistible as he may be. I respect him, and I like him; and hopefully we'll become friends, but that's it. You, on the other hand, seem to have some ulterior motive. A word of advice, if he's interested in you, let him do the chasing."

"Why you…" Victoria splutters.

"Alice, would you mind giving me a few moments with Victoria, please?" I cut into the altercation. "I was hoping that we'd wander down the street and get something to eat and catch up."

"Sure, Edward. Just let me go to the ladies, I'll meet you in the foyer in five minutes." She stares pointedly at Vic and then grabs her handbag before leaving.

"Edward…" Victoria immediately starts.

"I turn and stare at her coldly and cut her off. "What the hell, do you think you're up to, Vic? You've embarrassed both yourself and me with your behaviour, and why the hell would you intimate that there's something more than friendship between us?"

"I'm sorry, Edward…" her lip quivers. I've never seen Victoria this emotional before, sure, I've seen her angry; she doesn't have red hair for nothing. I soften my tone but remain determined.

"Victoria, I suggest you apologize to Alice. You're both very bright and talented, and you're both going to go far. Alice and I are nothing but colleagues, not that it's any of your business. You've got to get over whatever notion it is that you're harbouring about there ever being anything more than friendship between us."

"What is it, Edward? I'm not good enough for you; not part of Boston's social set like Jane or _Kate Delaney_? A woman from Southie isn't good enough for the great Edward Cullen?"

"That's it Victoria, you know that's a load of bullshit. I'm not having this conversation with you. I strongly recommend that you apologize to Alice, that is, if you wish to maintain any semblance of professionalism. I don't know what's gotten into you; this is so unlike you. I'll give you until the end of the day to let me know if I should go and speak to Gerard Beazley. Shut Alice's door on the way out, will you?"

I leave Victoria staring back at me wide-eyed. I've never spoken to her like that before, but I've never been this angry with her before. I can't believe her audacity in speaking to Alice in that way, and then the inference that there is or had been anything more than friendship between us, is just incomprehensible.

Alice is waiting for me in the foyer and instead of getting something from the deli, I suggest we go to the tiny Italian 'hole in the wall' restaurant, which is a favourite with many in the office. The food is great and the service fast; we can be back in the office within the hour.

Alice doesn't mention the conversation with Victoria as we walk. Her circumspection doesn't surprise me; it fits in with her natural tendency, and I suspect, she's doing it to save me any embarrassment. Instead, we discuss the Volturi brothers' arraignment, which is scheduled for the next afternoon.

As we tuck into our food, I finally raise the subject. "Alice, I'm sorry that you had to deal with Victoria. I have no idea what she was thinking, and I need you to know that there has never been, nor have I ever given her reason to believe that there could be anything more than friendship between us. We have known each other for a long while, but to me, she has always been more like a sister."

"You don't owe me any apology, Edward. I think it was a combination of professional frustration and whatever else is going on with her. Victoria and I have both vied for co-Counsel status on a number of cases, and I guess I'm marginally ahead. I can see why she would want this one so badly, not only will involvement as co-Counsel be an enormous boost to one's career, but she's missed out on the opportunity to work with you. That woman has some serious feelings for you, and I'm not sure she's going to give up any time soon." She ends with a smile.

"Don't worry, I'll deal with her. More importantly though, will you be able to work with her? I've given her until the end of the day to let me know if she feels she can't handle it, but if you tell me you can't work with her, then I'm more than happy to speak to the DA."

Alice's explanation throws more light onto Victoria's behaviour, she's certainly ambitious, and I suppose her seeing the article about Kate had some influence as well. But I'm damned it I'll allow Vic's unsolicited infatuation to temper my personal or professional life.

"I'll be fine, Edward. I'd hate for her career to be affected by what I hope was a momentary lapse in judgement."

"Thanks, Alice. You're being extremely generous, and I appreciate it. I can assure you that Victoria is a really nice person when you get to know her, I only hope that she realizes just how wrong her behaviour was."

With that, the subject is dismissed, and Alice and I get back to work. Once again, I marvel at how in sync we are, and I start to believe that Alice Brandon and I could become good friends.

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.

.

Having given up on Fidelity Properties, I turn my attention to the box marked 'Aro Volturi – Desk'. I find copies of his will, in which he's left everything to his wife and children and named his two brothers as executors to his estate. Then I find the deeds to an apartment in the name of a woman who is clearly not his wife. I make a note of her details and document the deed with the rest of the evidence. She may prove to be a useful witness.

As I sift through the rest of the paperwork, I finally find what I've been looking for. The agreement between Jasper and Aro for the exclusive services of one Isabella Swan, later termed 'the escort', is for the astounding sum of $7,000 a month. The contract is for a three-year term, with an option for re-negotiation at the end of the contract. There is even a clause covering terms in the event of an early release.

It's unbelievable that Jasper, a trained lawyer would accept such terms and pay such an exorbitant sum for the sexual services of a woman. The money is small change for someone of Jasper's wealth, but I still don't see why he'd feel the need to do this. Why tie himself to a paid escort, a glorified name for a prostitute in my view, for such an extended period? I haven't even met Miss Isabella Swan, but I already feel revulsion just thinking of her. It brings back too many bad memories.

The agreement is subject to Jasper entering into a business venture with Aro, where he purchases a thirty per cent share in Fidelity Properties, whose business is listed as real estate and property development. The amount paid for this shareholding is surprisingly low, further indication in my mind, that the sum paid for Isabella Swan's services and the shareholding agreement are somehow related.

There is no mention Fidelity's ownership of New Moon in their agreement, but that doesn't necessarily prove that Jasper didn't know about it. It's clear from Fidelity Properties' documents that New Moon is part of its portfolio of owned properties. Jasper should have checked the assets of the company that he'd purchased a significant shareholding in.

Victoria knocks on my door and steps in as soon as I look up.

"Edward, I'd like to apologize for my outburst earlier. What I said was unfair to you; I know how much you value your roots and your family and friends. I don't really believe that you think that we're not good enough. But…"

"There are no buts, Vic. There's nothing more for you to say, you were out of line, don't go there again, it's bullshit as I told you before. Have you apologized to Alice yet?" She shakes her head and opens her mouth to speak, but my irritation has not abated, and my impatience with her grows. If she thinks that she's going to get away with not saying anything to Alice, she's mistaken.

"Vic, apologize, it's the right thing to do both professionally and personally. Alice doesn't deserve for whatever is going on in your head to spill over into her life. Do you want to help on this case or not? We need every member of the team to be dedicated to meeting our objective; there is no place for petty squabbles. So, tell me now, Victoria, do you want to be involved or not."

"Yes, of course I do, Edward. I'm not a fool; I know what an opportunity this is. Although I would have preferred to be co-Counsel, I'd like to be involved in any way I can."

"Good, and I'd like for you to be. You're smart, Vic, and your keen eye will be of great value, there's a reason the DA appointed you and Neil to assist. But I insist that you apologize. Alice is my co-Counsel, and before I even came onto this case, she'd already done a lot of work on it. As much as you're my friend, I won't undermine Alice in any way. If you don't apologize, I'm afraid that I won't have you on the team."

She stares at me silently for a long while, but I don't relent. I can read the frustration in her eyes, but I simply can't let her get away with it. I need for her to be fully committed and resolved to working with Alice.

She leaves my office without saying another word. I'll check with Alice at the end of the day, if Victoria hasn't apologized, I'll speak with Gerard Beazley in the morning.

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.

My dad had called earlier in the day to invite me out for a quiet drink and a bite to eat after work. Generally, Dad leaves the social calendar to Mom and Rose, so I was both surprised and pleased to hear from him. We so rarely spend time alone these days.

On my way out, I decide to pop by Alice's office. She thankfully informs me that Victoria has apologized. From the expression on Alice's face, it appears that it was far from gracious, but she's too circumspect to say anything about it, and I decide not to press for details. I have no doubt that Alice is capable of dealing with Victoria.

I meet Dad at his favorite pub. He's already ensconced in his usual booth; his old friend Sean O'Connell is chatting with him.

"Ahh, our future DA," Sean claps me on the shoulder as soon as I greet them. "Who'd have thought that this young hellraiser would grow up to make both you and the Southie proud, Carlisle?"

Sean O'Connell is a retired beat cop. He was often the cause of me being grounded or losing privileges after he'd catch Em, Alec, Liam and me in some scrape or another. He always threatened to lock us up and throw away the key, and on one occasion, when I was around seventeen, he'd done just that. He locked us all in a cell until our parents had come to collect us. We sat there for hours, which I'm now sure they'd all planned. There were older and some hardened criminals in holding cells around us, while we contemplated our misdeeds, seeing what our futures could look like if we didn't wise up.

That was the first time since moving in with Mom and Dad that I'd felt real fear. That experience went a long way toward scaring us all straight, and I'm pretty sure that was exactly what he and our parents intended. We have a lot to thank Sean for, he could have been hard assed like so many other beat cops, and dealt with us differently. But he cared about all of the kids in this neighborhood and was friendly with many of the parents.

"I've always known that Edward would amount to something special, Sean. We would have been proud of him, no matter what path he ended up choosing."

My heart swells with love for Carlisle Cullen, this man who has been my male role model. As a young boy and then teenager, he epitomised the kind of man I wanted to become. He's been more of a father to me than the man who sired me, then abandoned both my mother and me before I was even born. The millions he left me on his death mean nothing to me, compared to the love and guidance from my dad.

"Ahh, yes, but part of 'Boston's New Power Couple', that must make you especially proud," he smirks smugly as he sees my discomfort. "Yes, everyone who knows you has seen that, lad. My wife kept the clipping, she tells me that many young Southie ladies have had their hopes dashed!" He throws the final jibe over his shoulder as he gets up to shake Dad's hand before walking away.

"Shit, I'm not dating her," I groan as I sit down, and Dad sputters with laughter.

"Well, Edward, the only way to stop media speculation about your love life is to live like a monk or get married, and I know neither of that will be happening any time soon. You're not out of the woods on that article yet, trust me. Emmett won't give up on such a golden opportunity to make you squirm."

"I know." I grumble, and he grins at me in amusement.

"And don't think I've forgotten how you so easily jumped on the bandwagon as well, old man." I jokingly threaten him.

"Bring it on, Son." He returns without blinking. And that's what makes Carlisle such a wonderful father. He can be authoritative when required, he's always loving and giving, but he can also simply be a friend to his children.

We've ordered a simple steak, chips and salad and a beer each. As much as I enjoy a drink with my friends, sitting here and enjoying a quiet pint and a meal with my dad, is one of my favorite things to do.

"We don't do this often enough." I admit.

"Well, you're busy, Edward, I understand that. And you're young and have your own life to live; just to still be able to do this occasionally, is enough for me."

"When these trials are over, Dad, I promise we'll do this more often."

"I understand, Son. How's the case going? Jasper's involvement must really be hard for you."

"It is, Dad. I feel bad about it, but really it was not a difficult decision to make to go ahead and prosecute his case."

I go on to talk to my dad about my resolve to handle Jasper's case, my meeting with James, my feelings on our friendships, what it was then, what I think it will become now.

Like always, he listens patiently, not interrupting, not in a hurry to tell me his views. He waits until I've exhausted the subject, before he finally speaks.

"Edward, I'm proud of the man you've become. I may not understand all the legal ramifications, but I can tell you without a doubt, that you've made the right decision.

I, along with your Mom, know why you decided to study law and became a prosecutor; you can't let a friendship get in the way of that. Do what you know is right, Edward, and don't feel you need to apologize for it; not to anyone."

Dad doesn't often get this serious with me these days, but when he does say something, the impact is still as great as it was when I first came to trust and love him. I feel remarkably lighter in spirit. I had not realized just how much the thought of going against a friend had weighed me down.

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My assistant has just announced James' arrival, and I make my way to join him in a conference room.

"James," I extend my hand in greeting, and he peremptorily shakes it.

"No need for niceties, Edward, I think we got that out of the way a couple of nights ago." He sits down again and looks around the rather modest room with a look of disdain. "Nice surroundings, I told you that it would be more lucrative to be a defense attorney."

"Well, unlike you, James, the trappings of wealth and position have never meant that much to me. It seems that you wish to forego even basic politeness." I loosen my jacket button and sit down at the table opposite him. "Where would you like to start, Counsellor?"

"Edward, you as well as I know that Jasper is not guilty of these charges, he didn't know what he was getting into. You should drop the case against him."

"James, the evidence shows that Jasper has a case to answer; the courts, when issuing the warrant for his arrest was convinced of that. We haven't found any evidence, which leads us to even consider that he had no knowledge of what he was getting involved in. If you can produce evidence of that nature, I'll gladly consider your request, or if you don't wish to produce that now, you have the opportunity at the preliminary hearing in two weeks to do that Counsellor. There, yet another judge will determine if we have sufficient evidence to go to trial."

"Well, _Counsellor_, how do I know that you don't already have that evidence?"

"James, please don't insult either my intelligence or my understanding of and commitment to my job. As a public prosecutor, I have a duty to see justice served. It's hardly justice to bring a person to trial if you have evidence, which indicates their innocence." He makes no response, except to stare at me sardonically.

"This department is not interested in simply putting people in jail, its goal is to serve the best interests of the state, to see that justice is served, to be the advocate for victims of crime. My role as an employee of the state is to live up to that. If we find evidence that shows that Jasper is innocent, then it is my duty to ensure that he's not prosecuted. But we have no such evidence, everything we have points to Jasper's involvement. Surely I don't have to remind you of the prosecution's duty to disclose exculpatory evidence?"

"You always were a stubborn, know-it -all, weren't you?"

"No, just someone who paid as much attention to the law as you did, James, something you seem to find unpalatable."

We stare at each other. I'm annoyed that he's dared to insinuate that I'd withhold evidence that could prove a defendant's innocence. I may be known as 'the bastard' by those that I've prosecuted; but I have and would never knowingly put an innocent person in jail.

It's clear that James is not going to say anything that will advance the case for either side today.

"James, let me assure you, _yet again_, that I'm not deliberately going after Jasper, I have no axe to grind with him. I am merely doing my duty and prosecuting everyone who the courts have agreed have a legitimate case to answer. I have no evidence to the contrary in Jasper's case. Every piece of evidence I have, Jasper already has in his possession. Now if you have anything for me which will advance your case, let me have it, and let's get on with this meeting."

"Edward, don't think for one moment think that we'll be handing over any evidence to strengthen your case against him. And I'm glad to hear that you are aware of your duties of disclosure."

"Well, Counsellor, if you what you're saying is that your client is pleading the fifth, and that you're waiting for me to find the evidence that proves him innocent, then you have our roles confused. But I will assure you that if I do come across such evidence, I'll disclose it, as I'm legally bound to do. If you have nothing else of worth to discuss, then this meeting is over."

He promptly gets up and turns to leave. "You'll lose this case, Edward. I promise you."

"This will be one case, I won't regret losing James,_ if_ Jasper is innocent. But I won't roll over for you. For once in your life, you're going to have to fight as hard for something as I've always had to."

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As I prepare to meet up with Alice to go through the details for the Volturi arraignment, my phone rings and I note that the call is from Jon.

"Edward, I've traced her. She lives in a modest one-bedroomed apartment in the south; a nice enough place, but hardly the kind of apartment I'd have expected a highly paid callgirl to be living in. What do you want me to do?" He rattles off.

"Isabella Swan? Are we talking about her?"

"Yes, the very same."

"I want you to bring her in for questioning. How about the day after tomorrow? Alice and I have to get the Volturi arraignments out of the way, and I want to question her myself."

"Okay, I'll let you know the time, just keep the late afternoon and evening free."

I let out a satisfied smile; at last I get to meet the illusive and highly questionable Miss Isabella Swan.

* * *

**A/N: An extra long chapter, we hope you didn't feel overwhelmed. The next chapter is the one many of you have been asking about!**

**Thank you for reading, and to everyone who so diligently reviews and keeps us inspired, you know who you are, a special heartfelt thanks.**


	9. Chapter 9, My Eyes Were Dazed

**Counsel: Chapter 8 - My Eyes Were Dazed**

**Disclaimer: Twilight and everything related belongs to Stephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. Original story, plot lines and characters and characterizations in Counsel are the property of WriteSisters.**

_"My eyes were dazed by you for a little, and that was all." – Thomas Hardy, Tess of the d'Ubervilles._

**EPOV**

Today is going to be a very busy day. Who am I kidding? Every day since the start of this case has been busy, and I have no doubt that every day for months to come will be just as hectic. Alice and I have once again come in at seven-thirty, but neither of us is complaining. We have a job to do, and we both love doing it.

We're going over our strategy for the Volturi arraignments, which are scheduled for later this morning. Marcus' case is up first, followed by Caius' and finally Aro's. We have no doubt that their attorneys will be seeking bail, but we're equally certain that we can convince a judge that they should be held in remand.

"The court couldn't possibly fail to see the danger their freedom would pose, Edward. I think we have this in the bag."

"It won't stop their lawyers from trying." I mutter. "But you're right, there's almost no chance that we'll fail."

I sit back in the chair, trying to ease the crick in my back. We've been sitting here, poring over the court documents for a couple of hours now, and I've grown uncomfortable. Alice grins at me as I press my hands into my lower back.

"Getting old, Counsellor?" She asks cheekily.

"Never too old, Alice, never too old." I waggle my brows as I jest in return. A soft knock sounds at my door, and I look up to see Victoria, with a scowl marring her brow. Her expression clears as soon as she catches my eye. "Hi, Vic, what can we do for you?"

"Hi, Edward," she says rather stiltedly. I guess she's still harboring resentment after our altercation. She reluctantly turns her gaze to my companion. "Alice…" she greets and turns back to me. "Umm, Neil and I are just wondering where you'd like us to start?"

"Alice?"

"I'll show you, Victoria." Alice responds to my query. "The files are all in conference room three, which now has a keypad on the door. Only Edward and I have the code; I'll let you and Neil have it as well? She looks at me questioningly, and I nod my approval.

"No one else is allowed in there unless accompanied by the four of us for now. We have to ensure that _no one_ is left in there without one of us being present, not even the cleaners. When we've documented all the evidence, we'll move the files for safekeeping." Alice informs and smiles at Victoria as she gets up and smooths down her skirt.

"Thanks." Victoria returns her smile rather hesitantly, and I expel a small sigh of relief. Vic is a long-time friend and Alice is fast becoming one. I'd like for them to get along; they actually have a lot in common, if they'd only give each other a chance. I'm thankful that at least Alice seems to be prepared to let bygones be bygones. Victoria turns her gaze back to me, before she silently follows Alice.

There is a new unease between us, which I know will have to be addressed. But today isn't the day for it; I have too much else on my plate, with the Volturi arraignments to get through and later this evening, I have to question Isabella Swan. I need to determine whether she'd make a good prosecution witness. It's clear that she's able to shed a lot of light on Jasper's relationship and business dealings with Aro, and possibly his wider prostitution business; but I have no idea how co-operative she'd be.

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Both Marcus and Caius' hearings have gone as expected. They remained stoic; well, Caius was almost disdainful throughout the reading of the charges. It was as if he didn't believe we'd be able to prove him guilty. The arrogance of the man is astounding, given the circumstances he's found himself in, and the weight of evidence we have against him.

We're due back in court in thirty minutes for Aro's arraignment, and Alice and I part ways to catch up on some phone calls.

I pace around the hallway, as I speak to Jon. "I'd like everything you've got on her as soon as you can get it over to me. I want to read it before I meet with her this evening."

"Okay, I'll drop it off at your office when you get back. How's it going, anyway?"

"As expected. That arrogant bastard Caius didn't look at all phased at the prospect of being on trial, not even when bail was denied. Are you sure that son-of-a-bitch isn't able to run his business from the inside? Are they being kept isolated, I don't want any of them to be able to get to witnesses."

"As far as I know, they are. Relax, Edward, I'll double check, all right?"

"Thanks, Jon." I turn to walk the other way, and almost run straight into a large body.

"Cullen!" Jacob Black sneers in greeting.

"I'll call you when I get out of here. This shouldn't take long." I finish my conversation with Jon, whilst giving Black a smug grin.

"Back for more, I see, Counsellor." I return Black's greeting and make my way to the courtroom. "Still not good at choosing your clients, I see." I call out over my shoulder as I realize that he's on his way to the same room.

We're seated at our table when Jacob and a senior partner at his law firm take their place at the defense attorney's table. So, Black is not the lead Counsel on this case, it would seem. Fits with Aro's hubris to opt for the most senior person in the company, rather than the best defense attorney. Travis Jones is a good attorney, but his forte is divorce and family law. As much as Black has lost cases to me, he actually has a pretty good track record, overall. If I were in Aro's shoes and had to choose between Jacob Black and Travis Jones, I'd opt for Black every time

Very soon after, Aro is led in, flanked by two police officers. He stops at our table and leans over to me. "I never thought I'd see you again,_ Edward_. You've come a long way," he says cryptically, before one of his escorts pulls him upright and forces him toward the defense table. I stare after him, having no idea what the hell he meant.

Alice leans in to speak to me, but I ignore her as I watch Aro smirk at me before sitting down between Black and Jones.

Travis Jones turns to address Aro. I can't see what he's saying, but I can clearly read Aro's response. "It's nothing that concerns you. The prosecutor and I go back a long way." He looks at me again with another arrogant smirk. What the fuck's he talking about? Before I can ponder his comment any further, the court is called to order, and we all stand to face the entering judge.

The clerk of the court calls out the docket number in the case of "the people against Aro Silvio Volturi." He then reads the list of charges. I steal a look at Aro; he's looking straight at the judge with a small grin. Well, it seems that he's not that keen on making a good impression. The Volturi siblings really seem to believe that they're untouchable, or perhaps they simply don't care about the consequences. Although, given the lifestyle and society that they've grown accustomed to, one would think that they'd have some concern about not getting on the wrong side of judges.

When the charges have been read, the judge takes a few moments to review the file, before he turns to me and asks if I have any notices to file. At an arraignment, the prosecutor may table certain notices about various kinds of evidence that might exist in a particular case. In most cases, these notices need to be filed within fifteen days of arraignment. Some examples of notices include the 'seven-ten-thirty-one-A', which means that police are claiming that the defendant has made some kind of statement during the time of arrest to the time of arraignment, and that the prosecutor intends to use it during the trial. Another example is the 'one-ninety-fifty' notice that indicates that the case is a felony. By filing this notice, the prosecutor is notifying the defense that he intends to eventually schedule the case to be presented to a Grand Jury. If this happens, the defense will most likely serve a 'cross-one-ninety-fifty', which indicates that they are reserving the defendant's the right to testify before the Grand Jury.

I don't intend to file any notices. All documentation will be lodged within the timeframe for the preliminary hearings and well within the required time. I don't want to unnecessarily take up the time of this court.

The judge then asks me to make a statement in respect to bail.

"Your honor, the state strongly advocates against bail being granted. Mr. Volturi is accused of serious charges, several of them being 'A' level felony crimes. In addition to the charges he is already facing, we're still actively investigating the disappearances of certain victims and alleged henchmen. The prosecution believes that if Mr. Volturi is released, he would seek to threaten or adversely influence key witnesses, and that he would continue his illegal businesses. The felony 'A' charges alone dictate that he should be kept on remand. There is also the possibility that the defendant, a man of considerable wealth, may flee the jurisdiction of this court or even the country."

The judge then turns to the defense table and asks whether counsel has a statement to make in response. Travis Jones practically jumps to his feet with alacrity.

"Your honor, the defense objects to the prosecution's assessment. My client is a respected member of our community; he has no previous criminal record. He owns a thriving real estate business and several homes in the community, he is a long-time resident of the state, and he has family in the community. Mr. Volturi is an American citizen; he is not likely to abscond. My client is innocent of these charges and intends to stand trial and clear his name. " He waves his hands around dramatically throughout his address and finishes with some aplomb.

The judge in an arraignment is quite likely never going to see any of the people he or she arraigns ever again. The judge at an arraignment is usually not terribly interested in the particulars of any case, except that which is necessary for the arraignment process. This lack of interest is not because of disinterest, but for practical reasons. Arraignment judges in large jurisdictions such as Boston would need to do close to one hundred arraignments in his or her shift, so it is simply impossible to become deeply involved in any one case; nor is it their job to do so.

Generally, an arraignment process should take no more than five to ten minutes, depending in the nature of the case. Ten minutes is a fairly long time, fifteen minutes for the full arraignment process is considered an eternity. As long as everyone involved is highly experienced, the time constraints are not at all unacceptable. Experienced judges and lawyers are adept at presenting the most relevant points in very limited time. There is a distinct vocabulary used in arraignments that is unfamiliar to those who are not experienced in criminal cases. Travis Jones clearly falls into that category. I note the slight frown of irritation on Judge Myer's face as he finally finishes his address.

He takes a few moments to ponder, moving his gaze from Travis to his client. Aro is still displaying both the expression and body language of one who has nothing but disdain for the process he's just undergone. Jacob Black, quite rightfully, is looking pained.

"Bail is denied. The defendant will be remanded into custody until the conclusion of his trial." Judge Myer announces peremptorily. Travis looks slightly dumbstruck; at both the speed of proceedings and his failure to positively impact the judge, I'd imagine.

We all stand as the judge leaves the courtroom. The two policemen return to escort Aro back to prison. Travis is talking to him hurriedly, but he ignores him as he turns his gaze to me. He quirks one eyebrow and smirks as he's led away.

.

.

.

I'm quiet on my way back from court as I contemplate Aro's strange behaviour and cryptic comments. Alice must sense my mood, because she leaves me to my introspection. It's not unusual for defendants, particularly those involved in felony crimes to see me as their adversary. The term 'bastard' was hardly coined on the basis of goodwill. I've had many approach me to make some snide remark, even to threaten me; but Aro's comments seem to have more meaning. I feel as if he's playing some kind of game with me, as if he's deliberately left me with a clue to ponder.

The feeling of having met him before is driving me mad, because I simply can't place him. If, as he says, we go back a long way, it could have been some time in the last five years of my term with the DA's office; but I feel certain that I'd remember having having come across him before. He's hardly the type of person you'd easily forget, both in appearance and personality. I wrack my brain, going back to my wild teenage years. Did we perhaps run into him during one of our rash escapades?

My desk phone rings, and my assistant announces that Jon's on his way in to see me. He taps lightly on my door before entering, and I get up to shake his hand.

"Edward, how was your morning?"

"Pretty uneventful, we got through the Volturi brothers' arraignments much as expected. They're all back in remand."

He grins his pleasure at this piece of information. Not that any of us ever doubted that they'd be refused bail. 'A' felony crimes, which include murder and serious drug related charges, where the penalty is life imprisonment, or in some jurisdictions, death, are generally always refused bail. I think Jon's pleasure at knowing the Volturi are back behind bars is somewhat personal. On a hunch, I decide to go against my normal discretion with new acquaintances or people who are not my family.

"Not that I'm questioning your commitment to lock away all criminals, Jon, but you seem to be personally invested in the Volturi case?" A shadow falls across his face almost immediately it becomes clear what I'm asking. He seems undecided for a few moments, just staring at me, before he comes to a decision.

"Do you have time for a quick lunch?"

"Just give me a few moments, and I'll join you in the foyer downstairs." He nods and drops a file onto my desk before silently leaving. I open the file and have a cursory glance at the top page to read the heading. "Isabella Swan." I glance at the second line to note her date of birth as August sixth, nineteen eighty-eight. So, she'll turn twenty-five in a couple of months. I snap the folder shut before I get caught up in reading the rest of the contents.

I return a couple of internal calls, including one to Gerard Beazley's assistant, confirming my weekly meeting with him in the morning.

.

.

Jon and I are seated in the 'hole-in-the-wall' restaurant, waiting for our orders. He starts talking as soon as the waiter serves us our food. "Elise, my younger sister was such a beautiful and vivacious young woman, really outgoing and popular. I've always felt extremely protective of her." I nod in understanding and encouragement. I know that feeling of wanting, no needing, to protect a sister all too well.

"We saw less and less of each other as my career took off. She went off to college, harnessing a whole new set of friends. After about six months, when we finally managed to be free at the same time, we met up for dinner.

She had lost a lot of weight. I saw all the tell-tale signs of cocaine use, the constant sniffing, rubbing her nose. She was jittery throughout dinner and only picked at her food. She excused herself to go to the bathroom and returned with a distinctive 'buzz' and even more sniffing. When I challenged her, she denied it, simply saying that she'd had too much caffeine because she hadn't slept due to some assignment she had to complete.

I can kick myself now; fuck, I've wanted to do so much more than that to myself since then. I should have been more insistent; hell, in my line of work, I see those signs all the time. I should have _fucking known better_. But I didn't want to believe that my baby sister was into drugs." he sighs dejectedly.

"So what happened to her?" My stomach drops at the awful, unwanted thought.

"I got a phone call late at night from a cop I know. They'd picked up my sister, out of her mind on drugs at a party they'd raided. They were tracking a pusher they'd gotten a tip off about. He was part of the Volturi distribution network."

I raise my eyebrows. "Yeah, not surprising, huh?" He responds immediately. "Of course we couldn't link any of the brothers to the parasite we picked up. He wasn't talking, and they'd covered their tracks too well. But I swore then that I would not rest until I got those bastards behind bars, where they belong."

"What about Elise?" I ask with no small amount of trepidation.

"She made it, thank God. Another of her friends died of an overdose that same night, she was so lucky; we were so lucky. When they released her from hospital, I took her to Vermont, where our grandmother lives and booked her into a rehab centre there. That was three years ago. She's made a life out there now."

I expel a breath I'd not even realized that I was holding. "I'm glad, Jon. I'm glad for both of you. I have a sister as well; I don't know what I'd do if something like that had happened to her. And we'll get them, I promise you. We'll put them away for life."

I don't tell him about my own experience with the aftermath of drugs, and just how tragic the outcome could have been for his sister. We finish our meal in companionable conversation, ranging from details of the ongoing investigation to our common interests in sport and the arts. A strange combination, I know, but it's nice to meet a kindred spirit. Dad and Emmett share my passion for sport, Rose shares my passion for literature, and Mom my love of art. This is the first time I've met someone who shares more than one of those things with me.

After checking in with Alice to see how the ongoing research of the evidence is going and learning that Vic and Neil are doing a great job, I return to my office to go over the file for Isabella Swan.

This woman is a dichotomy. From her tax records, we can tell that she moved from New York about three years ago, but we have no details of her life in that city. She's worked at several jobs, the most consistent occupation seemingly that of being a ballet teacher. According to the evidence we've found on New Moon, she's being paid seven thousand dollars a month, yet she lives in a tiny one-bedroomed apartment in a very modest part of the city. She attends dance classes, and from what we can tell, still works as a teacher at a small ballet school.

Why, if she's being paid so handsomely, is she not living a lifestyle more commensurate with her income? What I find equally strange is that she's actually declared the income from New Moon on her tax returns and has listed her occupation as being a professional dancer for just over two years. So, she's involved in an illegal business but has enough regard for the law to make sure she declares her illicit income.

Experience and gut feel tell me that there's more to this than meets the eye. Our Miss Swan is not only a dichotomy, but has some secrets she's hiding. I wonder if I'll get any insight into what they may be during my questioning of her tonight.

I rub my eyes. I'm feeling tired and a little irritated, if truth be known. I'm still thinking about Aro's strange comment, and Jon's tale has left me feeling somewhat agitated. I have an hour and a half before I have to meet with Isabella Swan, and I want to be on top of my game. She's what we call a fact witness as opposed to an expert witness, a predicate witness or a character witness. A fact witness is a person who has personal knowledge of the fact or evidence in question. In the case of Isabella Swan, she has personal knowledge of Jasper's charge of procuring a person for prostitution, namely herself; and she potentially has first-hand knowledge of his part ownership of New Moon via Fidelity Properties. Additionally, she may well have information on Aro, which we have not yet uncovered.

Witnesses also fall into three broad categories, which can be best described as friendly, neutral or adverse. I have no idea which of these categories she'll fall into; I'll have to wait until I meet her to ascertain this. Our hopes of having her willingly testify for the prosecution rests heavily on her attitude.

I decide to go for a walk to clear my mind whilst I ponder all of these pertinent points.

I breathe the fresh air in deeply and slowly release it as I enjoy the balmy, late May evening. Given that it's Thursday, which means extended opening hours, I hail a cab and ask to be taken to the Museum of Fine Arts. I always find it calming to wander through great works of art, to be in the presence of such genius. Boston's MFA is one of the most comprehensive art museums in the world, housing more than four hundred thousand works of art.

I make my way straight to the Art of the America's Wing and stare admiringly at the paintings. I smile as I remember the opening of this wing. Some years ago, just before I applied to work for the DA's office, Rose insisted that I should attend the free admissions day for the public. She then promptly invited herself as my date, because she'd heard that Malcolm Rogers, the director, would be making an ASL-interpreted speech. The mayor declared it 'Museum of Fine Arts Day' and more than thirteen thousand people attended. I had such a wonderful day, with my irrepressible sister dragging me from exhibit to exhibit.

I return to the office feeling newly invigorated. I check my watch; I have ten minutes to my appointment. I make my way to the viewing room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Isabella Swan and to try and determine what kind of reception I'll receive.

It's clear that she's involved in prostitution, and I simply abhor her for what seems to be her chosen profession. She has a job teaching ballet, so why would she sell herself for money, other than that she chooses to?

I realize that we could threaten to or charge her with prostitution, but in the greater scheme of things, she's small fry, and it could be difficult to prove. She could maintain that she was being paid for dancing, as she did on her tax returns. Even in Massachusetts, with our well-documented history for witch burning and marking fallen women with a scarlet letter, the law only punishes a person caught in the act of prostitution. Even if a person is known to have previously engaged in prostitution, he or she can't be charged based on reputation alone. An offer of sex in exchange for money has to be made before that person can be prosecuted, although actual sexual conduct doesn't have to occur. If charged and convicted, the penalty is a fine of five hundred dollars or one year served in prison in addition to the fine. Not really worth pursuing, when we're after the big fish.

I enter the small room and ignore the seating. Instead, I opt to stand in front of the two-way mirror. She's already there and seated at the table.

Unaware of my scrutiny, she stares around the room, lazily swinging her slender, ivory leg from side to side. Her movements are both graceful and sensual; the impossibly high-heeled black shoe arches her foot enticingly.

My breath hitches involuntarily. I'd been prepared for her to be attractive, beautiful even, given Jon's recollection of what he'd been told. But I'm ill prepared for just how stunning she is, and less so for my body's responses at the sight of her. I watch her for long moments, silently taking in her allure as my mind fights my treacherous body's response.

Her wandering gaze passes over the glass, and then, as if sensing my presence, she suddenly swings her gaze back. Her eyes appear to lock onto me.

My heart beats erratically, and my groin stirs at the sight of her full red lips, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, the milkiness of her flawless skin. Her natural combination of grace and sensuality undermines my usual control. And those damned eyes, dark and filled with promise, yet there also seems to be a vulnerability about them that belies her profession.

I take an involuntary step back, although I know that she can't possibly see me.

Then I think of Jasper, and remember what she truly is, and I'm filled with revulsion, not only for her chosen occupation, but also at my body's seemingly involuntary reaction to her. I remind myself she's just a beautiful woman, and I've known enough of them in my time.

I stiffen my resolve to get to the bottom of her involvement in this case, to see just how valuable a part she could play in bringing down the Volturi brothers, and what light she can shed on Jasper's involvement in their crimes. I turn away and make my way to the interview room, for my first meeting with Isabella Swan.

I stand outside the closed door for long moments, gathering my thoughts, wrapping myself in the mantle of my professional persona. I turn the handle quietly and enter the room.

She looks up as the door opens, and her eyes widen before she appears to collect herself to stare at me impassively. "Miss Swan, I'm Assistant District Attorney, Edward Cullen. Thank you for coming in." I greet her, knowing full well that she had little choice in the matter. People don't get to refuse a 'request' by the police to come in to answer some questions at the DA's headquarters.

She doesn't respond immediately, she just watches me cautiously like some unwelcoming cat would a stranger that enters their domain. I make my way over and take a seat opposite her, and her eyes narrow slightly as she draws herself back into her chair. What the hell is wrong with the woman, is she simply nervous about being here, afraid that we may charge her with something, or has she already decided to be uncooperative?

"Can I offer you something to drink, coffee or water? Although, I should probably warn you that the coffee isn't much good." I try to relax her, reminding myself that it is always better to have potential witnesses feel relaxed and to gain their trust.

"No, thank you." She finally speaks and something in her soft, husky voice seems familiar.

"Do you know why we've asked you to come in, Miss Swan?"

"No, I don't, Mr Cullen. All Detective Holmes said was that I was a person of interest in the Volturi case, and that it would be in my best interests to come in to answer a couple of questions. So here I am. I have no idea how you believe that I may be involved."

Her words are innocuous enough, but I sense a combativeness or perhaps it's a guardedness in her. Time to get down to business.

"Well, Miss Swan, let's get straight to the point. You have a relationship with Senator Whitlock, and Aro Volturi hired you as a paid escort at his club, New Moon. For the past two years, you've been contracted to_ service_ the senator exclusively."

"I'm a dancer at the club, Mr Cullen, nothing more."

I laugh lightly. "Well, you and I both know that there's more to your employment than that, Miss Swan. Let's not pussyfoot around or try to color what you do. You're a paid escort, paid seven thousand dollars a month to service the senator; you are not_ just a dancer_. Why would Aro Volturi, a ruthless criminal, but a smart man nevertheless, pay a simple dancer that amount of money when he could get a dancer for about a third of that price?"

She gasps lightly, it's clear that she had no idea that we had that much detail. But her eyes narrow at me.

"I'm not _just a dance_r, Mr Cullen, I'm a very good dancer, some people say I'm an extraordinary dancer, and I earn every penny of the money that I'm paid to _dance_."

"Oh, I'm sure you do." I say nonchalantly, and I watch her full, pouty lips purse in anger. Again, something about her tugs at my memory, and despite the irritation this woman engenders in me, I can't help but notice how beautiful she is, despite her growing anger, no, perhaps it's enhanced even more by the heightened emotion in her.

"What a jerk!" she mutters under her breath. That term, used in that soft, yet husky voice; I feel sure I've heard it somewhere before.

"Have we met before, Miss Swan?" I change tactics.

"I don't know, have we, Mr Cullen? Perhaps you've frequented New Moon and saw me dance?" She responds with a perfectly arched brow.

"I don't have to resort to attending places such as that or paying those amounts of money to be entertained, Miss Swan. Let's get back to the reasons you're here. Tell me how you came to be involved with Aro Voluturi and Jasper Whitlock?"

"I've already told you that I'm employed as a dancer at New Moon, and Senator Whitlock is a member, there is nothing more to it than that."

"Oh, I know that there's a lot more to it than that, Miss Swan. We have the evidence to prove it. What we're trying to establish, is just how deeply involved both you and the senator are in Aro Volturi's criminal activities, other than prostitution. You are aware that prostitution is a crime in this state, are you not? Clearly, we have enough evidence on both Aro and the Senator to have charged them; they're both facing trial in a couple of months. We could go on to charge you with prostitution, Miss Swan, but frankly, we have bigger fish to fry. You could help yourself if you were to co-operate."

She visibly pales, and for some reason, I feel a momentary flash of regret for being responsible for her distress. But again, I remind myself of what she really is and just how much I despise her for it.

"I..I'm not a prostitute." She says defiantly.

"In the eyes of the law, given the contract that we have between Aro Volturi and Jasper Whitlock, which secures your services for a three-year period, you are a prostitute, Miss Swan; despite any guise you may wish to cloak your occupation in."

Her lips quiver, and I wonder if she knew of the existence of the contract. She bites down on her bottom lip as she fights to regain control, and I go in for the kill. If I'm going to get her to give evidence against either of them, then this is the time, when she's facing her own precarious position.

"So you can either co-operate with our investigations, or you can try to obstruct us in our efforts to put two men who are involved in prostitution, and in the case of Aro Volturi, the destruction of many innocent lives, behind bars. It's your choice, Miss Swan."

She glares at me now. "You really are a bully aren't you? I shouldn't be surprised really. How's your car, Mr Cullen."

I stare at her, and the penny drops; the lips, the shape of her face, the voice. Her easy grace, she's a dancer._ Fuck_, how could I be so stupid. Now I'm feeling really pissed off.

"B. Cygnet? You're her? So, you really are into breaking the law aren't you, Miss Swan? Prostitution and leaving the scene of an accident, giving false information, quite the little criminal in the making, aren't you? "

She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. I'd like to really get into her for that little stunt, but I can't be swayed from the real reason we're here. I won't lose sight of the bigger cause.

"You are going to pay for the damages to my car, or I will have you charged for leaving the scene of an accident and not providing insurance details. Do you even have insurance? You certainly get paid enough for _dancing_, as you claim, to afford it.

Both offences are misdemeanors and carry a maximum penalty of ninety days in jail and a fine of one thousand dollars. Providing police with false information, and I am an officer of the court, Miss Swan, is a gross midemeanor and carries a maximum penalty of one year in prison. Either way, you'd end up with a police record."

She jumps up, her breath coming fast, and her breasts heave with the effort. Once again, despite my anger and loathing for her and her profession, I find myself aware of her attractions, and my body's seemingly automatic response to them.

"You are insufferable, you can't charge me with giving false information to the police, you're not a policeman, and I didn't know that you are an ADA."

"Oh, so you just go around lying to ordinary, innocent citizens, do you? That doesn't lessen your criminal behaviour."

"For the last time, I am not a criminal. I only drove away because you were such a…a.. jerk." I'm surprised that she hasn't sworn at me. But the lack of profanity doesn't lessen her anger in any way. She's radiating ire, staring me down like some enraged, but beautiful kitten, puffing up her fur to look more intimidating.

"Sit down, Miss Swan. We're not through with our questioning yet; I will not be sidetracked from the reason that you're here. But rest assured, I _will_ deal with you through the proper channels about the damage to my car. I want to know about your relationship with Aro Volturi and Jasper Whitlock."

"I am employed by Mr Volturi to dance in his club. I am a friend of and keep company with Mr Whitlock, I have no knowledge of any contract between Jasper and Aro."

Her eyes look a little pained as she mentions the contract, which leads me to believe that she didn't know of its existence, or perhaps she's just a really good liar, I remind myself.

"And no money has ever been exchanged between me and the senator, Mr Cullen. He does not pay me for my company."

"He may not personally pay you, Miss Swan, but you are being paid for sexual favours, we have no doubt of that. Your name was one of many on a list of Aro's prostitutes, not just working from New Moon, but several other establishments throughout Boston and the state. You would be doing yourself a favour by co-operating with us. We are not seeking to press charges against you; we'd like you to consider being a witness for the prosecution, Miss Swan. Either way, you will end up on the stand, whether we need to subpoena you or not. We'd prefer not to. But you will not be able to prevent yourself from being involved in this case. I'll give you some time to consider it."

She now looks even paler, if that's at all possible, with her naturally ivory skin. Her large, luminous eyes are filled with fear, but she stares at me defiantly.

"I don't like you, at all, Mr Cullen. You are an insufferable jerk; I don't intend to help you in any way, if I can help it. I will not turn on Jasper, he's my friend."

"Oh, I know quite a bit about Jasper's brand of friendship, Miss Swan. Believe me when I tell you, that if it came down to Jasper's political ambitions and your friendship, there'd be no contest. As I said, we'd like to have you as a prosecution witness, but I'd just as happily see you on the stand in a cross-examination, or I could simply call you as a hostile witness. Any way you choose, Miss Swan, you will answer my questions, under oath. Don't leave the state. I'll have Detective Holmes formalize the directive, and we'll be in touch to see what decision you've made."

Her hands shake as she gathers her handbag and stands to leave. I'm once again struck by her grace, and the natural sensuality of her lithe body. I've seen many women who are taller and more voluptuous, but they all pale into insignificance when viewed against this woman. No wonder Jasper was enthralled enough to pay that amount. God, I don't even want to consider what she'd have to do to earn that money. Every time I think of that, I can't help feeling the revulsion brought on not only by her, but also by the thoughts of my dark past.

I get up to walk her to the door, but she sweeps past me. She reaches for the door handle, and turns back to me. "You're still an ass; even cloaked in the mantle of your expensive suit and the authority of your position, you're still an unmitigated ass, Counsellor." She opens the door and leaves me standing there, the remnants of her alluring perfume lingering in the air.

.

.

.

I'm sitting on my sofa, with a snifter of brandy in my hand, the television sound is turned down, and I'm aimlessly watching the visuals of some wildlife documentary flit across the screen.

Two of today's encounters keep running through my head. One being Aro's cryptic comment, which I'm still trying to make sense of. I've been wracking my brain about where I've seen him before. I still don't have any recollection, and short of going to ask him directly, I still have no clue. But I feel that's exactly what he'd want me to do. He wants to play this cat and mouse game with me, and I will not give him the satisfaction of engaging. I'll continue to pretend that his aside means nothing to me and hope that at some stage, I'll work it out.

And then there's _her_, and her obvious involvement in this case. She seemed to be surprised about the contract for her services between Jasper and Aro, but in truth, she must know something of it. After all, she is listed in Aro's documents as one of his prostitutes. Although, it was clear that there was something special about her, given that nothing other than her name was included in the information. She's obviously protective of Jasper, but not of Aro for some reason. There's something there as well.

I'd prefer her to co-operate, but either way, I have no doubt that I could crack her on the witness stand. I don't care if she refuses to act as a witness for the prosecution, I'll have her subpoenaed, and if necessary declared a hostile witness, but I _will_ get the truth from her.

I can't believe that she so cleverly deceived me when she ran into my car. In reality, I could slap myself for not seeing it before, but I had simply not put the two things together. Why the hell would I associate the woman who'd run into the back of my car with the highly paid escort involved in a case I was prosecuting?

Sure there were some things that related, the fact that she was obviously dressed in dance gear when she ran into my car, and the fact that Isabella Swan was a dancer at New Moon. But what the fuck, who would have automatically put the two disparate facts together; then the final little touch, Cygnet, another name for Swan. A pretty smart move, but I just can't see the funny side right now. I can just imagine if Ben Cheney found out that little titbit of information, just how much he'd be gloating. Fuck, I hope that Emmett never finds out.

God, I'm so conflicted about the damned woman; the way she physically attracts me, but emotionally and mentally repels me when I think of her profession. She's a beautiful woman, and I'm a man, I guess it's normal.

A line from one of Rose's favorite books comes to mind. _"My eyes were dazed by you for a little, and that was all."_

And that's all it is, I'm a red-blooded male, who felt a natural attraction to a beautiful and sexy woman. But that feeling is fleeting, I will not let it get in the way of me doing my job. Isabella Swan is just another witness in this case, which I intend to win.

* * *

**Author's Announcement:**

**Those of you who may be intrigued by how Isabella Swan came to be a paid escort are not alone.**

**When we were developing the characters for Counsel, I became obsessed with both Isabella's and Edward's backstories. How they each came to the places that we first meet them in the telling of Counsel.**

**I started writing Bella's story, which I've called Cygnet. The first chapter has been posted under our WriteSisters profile. Subsequent chapters will be posted on our own Website, which we'll launch later this week. If you are interested in reading the rest of Bella's story after reading chapter 1, please put Cygnet on story alert to receive the link to our website.**

**The story is complete and chapters will be posted weekly, in conjunction with Counsel updates.**

**I'd like to acknowledge my writing partner, Chynnadoll for her encouragement and support for me whilst writing Cygnet.**

**Also, please don't forget to read her story, Mask'charade under her Chynnadoll36 profile. It's a wonderful story.**

**Thank you for reading. FoolForEdward**

**I**


	10. Chapter 10, The Beginning of the End

**Counsel: Chapter 9 – The Beginning of the End.**

**Disclaimer: No copyright intended. Everything Twilight related is the sole property of Stephanie Meyer. Original characters, story and plot lines are the property of WriteSisters.**

_"This was it. The Beginning of the blasted end." – Fisher Amelie, Callum & Harper_

**EPOV**

It's the end of the working week, thank God. After the consistently long and exhausting days, I'm looking forward to not having to rush out of the door in the morning. So much has been happening. The Volturi case is not only big, given the number of people we have to prosecute, but it's also complicated as we try to unravel the network of illegal businesses they've been running.

Jasper's case is up first, and the preliminary hearing is scheduled for Thursday. In some respects, I feel almost grateful that his trial will be concluded first and in a relatively short timeframe. I'd like to think that once it's over, I'd be able to more fully concentrate on putting the Volturi's behind bars, where they belong.

I all but collapse on the sofa with a beer and a bag of pretzels. I can't be bothered cooking or even getting myself off the sofa to go out or call to have food delivered. I have a brief moment of not so happy contemplation about being thirty, single and sitting at home alone on a Friday night. How surprised those gossip columnists that are always seeking to portray me as 'the millionaire, eligible bachelor around town' would be, if they knew the truth about my current social life. I even contemplate calling Kate Delaney and making arrangements to see her over the weekend, but think better of it.

She's called a couple of times since the charity event. I know that she's been waiting for me to ask her out, but despite being tempted, I've resisted. Kate's great, but it would simply be too complicated if she should decide that she wants more than just casual dating. Her father's a judge, and I really don't want to compromise my professional life for someone I'm not likely to get serious about. We have much in common it's true, but there are fundamental differences in our outlook on life, which would ultimately end up ruining anything good we could have. There is no doubting our mutual physical attraction, the sex was great; just thinking about it gets me aroused enough to force me off the sofa and into the shower.

When I finally fall onto my bed with weakened knees, I almost instantly succumb to what should have been a deep and restful sleep. It's three a.m. and I've somehow managed to wake myself from the throes of a rather unwelcome dream. A dream about red, pouty lips, long dark hair, spilling over ivory shoulders and the curve of a well-formed breast; all arousing images, but they were mixed in with ones of cold, calculating eyes, dark slicked-black hair and a hardened face.

The last image of that cruel, sneering expression still swirls around in my mind. Fuck! Where do I know Aro Volturi from, why does that dream seem so real?

I stubbornly refuse to consider what my dream about Isabella Swan means, confining that part of my subconscious to the back of my mind. I determinedly clamp down on my body's reaction to reliving both the reality and dream-state of her physical attributes.

Try as I will, I can't get back to sleep, so I decide to get up and do some work. I make myself a pot of coffee. Despite my residual feeling of unease about my dream, I can't repress my hunger. I stare into the near-empty refrigerator. I haven't had any time to shop, so all I have is a choice between cheese and cheese. I decide to use both the Camembert and Pecorino on thick slices of bread, toasted under the grill.

As I wait for the cheese to melt, I resolve to do some grocery shopping and try and tidy my home over the weekend. My working weeks, and probably most of my weekends, for the foreseeable future will be just as hectic, and I need to get myself organised. I silently thank the gods that Rose convinced me to splurge on a valet laundering and dry cleaning service. Perhaps I should also organize for a weekly cleaning service? I add calling my mother for advice to my steadily growing domestic 'to do' list.

I wipe the last of the gooey cheese off my fingers and power up my laptop.

I open my discussion notes on last night's meeting with Alice. The first item is Jasper's preliminary hearing and trial preparation.

The hearing will be the first time that James and I will go head to head in this case. A preliminary hearing is similar to a trial. The major difference between the two is that the objective of the hearing is to test the existence of probable cause; meaning that it's confined to determining whether the defendant should stand trial or be released, whereas the objective of a trial is to determine whether the defendant is guilty or not.

Both sides have to table their submissions to the court before the hearing date; both sides are entitled to call witnesses to give evidence. However the scope for cross- examination is limited. Unlike a trial, where either side is allowed to extensively question a witness, in a preliminary hearing, questions have to be curtailed to those that prove only whether there is enough evidence to go to trial. They should not probe widely or deeply with the aim of proving the defendant guilty or innocent.

Our submission has already been lodged with the court, so we don't have any work to do in that regard. Given that the most serious charge against Jasper is that of racketeering and given the strength of our documented evidence, I've decided that we'd call only one expert witness at the hearing. She is a professor at one of Boston's premier law faculty's. She's an expert in corporate governance, and will testify to the fact that Jasper, as a qualified lawyer, should be well aware of the rigors he should have undertaken before becoming a partner in Fidelity Properties.

James has chosen to call two witnesses to support his case, Sarah Warne, listed as a dancer at New Moon and Michael O'Flaherty the manager of the club.

We've done all we can for the hearing for now; we have no further witnesses to contact or prepare. We'll schedule enough time before the hearing to go over our arguments. In terms of trial preparation however, we have much to do. We need to contact a number of potential witnesses and then interview them. We'll need to prepare the selected witnesses and ensure that they're ready for trial. These include the general manager of Fidelity Properties, who we hope will be able to add to the evidence of Jasper's ownership and involvement in the company and a number of prostitutes from Aro's many brothels. Additionally, Jon is trying to locate a woman called Natasha Perkins, who is reputed to be a former paid escort of Jasper's.

.

.

I receive a phone call from Emmett later that morning, asking whether he and Rose could come over late afternoon. I readily agree and offer to cook a simple pasta dish for dinner. He asks me to hold on whilst he checks with Rose, and when he returns, informs me that she'll cook and will arrive at two o'clock. I smile at my sister's bossiness, but I look forward to her cooking, she's amazing at it, just like my mother. "Tell her to make extra, and it's a deal."

"That goes without saying. I'm sure both her and Mom will be over to cook up a storm. They wouldn't want half of Boston's 'Power Couple' to starve to death, now would they?" He can't help but get a jibe in.

"Fuck off, Em! I told you that we weren't dating."

"I get that, but I bet you're doing other things," he infers salaciously.

"Again, fuck off, Emmett."

"Ah… yes, fuck and off, two very important words. I bet you did one and then experienced getting '_off_'." He laughs lewdly, and I hang up on him, but can't help the smile on my face. I knew he wouldn't let it slide easily, but if he gets it out of his system whilst talking to me on the phone, it saves the more public ribbing when I meet up with the whole gang.

I rush home, arms heavily laden with shopping bags. I think I may have gone overboard, but I really don't know when I'll get the opportunity to stock up again.

I've barely had time to pack everything away, when my security buzzer sounds. I glance at my watch; one-forty, and without even checking, I press the button to allow my visitor entry to the foyer.

Rose is never late; she's just too impatient to tolerate waiting for any thing or person. I smile as I make my way to the door to greet her. I hold the door open as I watch both her and my mother exit the lift, each labouring under the weight of several shopping bags.

"What the hell are you doing? " I laugh, and Rose glowers at me. My mother smiles a warm greeting and kisses my cheek as she pushes past me before I can relieve her of her burden.

"I know how busy you are at work, darling. It must be extremely difficult for you to manage to eat properly. I'm not staying for dinner, your dad and I have plans. I'm just going to cook some basic meals, which you can easily heat. And mind your language!" She calls out as she makes her way to the kitchen.

"And what's _your_ excuse?" I ask Rose as she too tries to push past me, but I'm prepared this time, and step in front of her, tugging at two of the heavy bags in her hand. "Shit, what do you have in here, bricks?" I exclaim at the unexpected weight of the bags. She blows me a loud raspberry, then loudly mouths, "Shut up!"

Mom leaves at around six p.m., after showing me the array of labelled containers in the freezer. My mother and sister have been closeted in the kitchen for hours, and I now have a selection of pasta sauces and chicken and veal dishes to last me for at least two or three weeks. Each container has detailed instructions for heating and suggestions for what to serve as accompaniments. I hug and kiss Mom's cheek affectionately.

"Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate this so much, and thank you for offering to arrange for a cleaning service for Wednesdays. Are you sure that you can manage to be here to let them in and out?" Given, my profession, my mother worries about allowing people we don't know unaccompanied into my home.

"Of course, Edward, it will give me a chance to type up my case notes. I'll use your study and keep out of their way until they need to get in there."

"You're the best, Mom. I love you_, _and tell Dad I say hi, _and_ that I haven't forgotten about my promise." I give her another hug as she turns to make her way to the door.

As I look back to tell Rose and Em that I'll be right back, she signs 'brown nose' to me. I return with the sign for 'bitch' and for good measure, I mouth it as well, but Mom catches me yet again and admonishes me. I glare at my sister, who turns away giggling at having achieved her goal.

I walk Mom down to the garage and lean into her open window to give her one last peck on the cheek before she drives away. I watch with a warm heart as the security doors on the garage lower. Her and my sister coming over to cook for me, is yet another sign of their devotion and acceptance of me as truly being a part of their family. I doubt that I could be more loved if I had been their biological son and brother.

Rose is busily setting the table for dinner when I return. "Huh! My Rosie, got you into trouble again. You never learn, do you? She's been doing the same thing since you two were teens." Emmett taunts me.

"Laugh it up, sucker. I have a freezer full of Mom's Veal Marsala and Piccata in the freezer." His face instantly falls.

"Rosie, what are we having for dinner?" He shouts loudly, just as Rose emerges from the kitchen with wine glasses in hand. She glares at him as she stops at the table. "Don't shout!" She hisses at him. "We're having spaghetti marinara and a salad."

"Aww, baby, I was hoping we'd have one of Mom's veal dishes," he moans.

I watch in amusement as she carefully places a glass at each place setting before turning to face him; her beautiful face scowling, as she places her hands on her hips.

"Is my cooking not good enough for you, Emmett?" She asks. He blanches visibly, and my smile broadens.

"Sweetie, no, of course not."

She raises her brows challengingly. "No, it's not, or no it is?"

"Rosie, baby…" he sidles over to her and tries to place his arms around her, but she shoves him away. Now it's my turn to laugh uproariously, as my sister smirks at me over his shoulder. She turns back to Em, scowl firmly back in place.

"Rose, you know I love your cooking, fuck, I love _everything_ about you. Come on, baby." He pulls her in again.

"You'd better!" She returns his hug and surreptitiously winks at me.

"And she's been doing _tha__t_ to you since you were a teenager." I get the final dig in.

The three of us spend a pleasant evening together. I feel relaxed and happy, in my own home, with two of my most loved people. Toward the end of the night, Rose turns to me.

"Edward, you were so generous when you signed over half of this incredible building to me. I really don't think I deserve it, but Em and I have talked about it, and I've discussed it with Mom and Dad. They've all convinced me that you didn't do it out of some misguided sense of obligation, but because you wanted to. Em and I are seriously trying for a family now, and I'd love to accept your wonderful gift. We'd like to move ahead and have plans drawn up for the renovations to the property."

I can barely contain my happiness. I've dreamt of this since the first moment I laid eyes on this building. I pictured my sister and me living side-by-side, raising our families here. I've also purchased the adjoining lot at the back of the building, which remains untouched. My plans are to develop it into a wonderful shared garden, that our family can enjoy, and where our children can grow up and play together. The building is actually big enough to have created three homes. My original plan was for our parents to also live here, but they declined, saying that they wanted to remain in the neighbourhood where they'd lived for most of their lives.

Perhaps, it's my lack of family life in my early childhood that has made me feel so strongly; but since my teenage years, I've dreamt of us all remaining not only close emotionally, but in physical proximity. In these dreams, the woman I share my life with has always been faceless. I only ever see her from afar, but she's someone I'm madly and passionately in love with and who returns my love. I haven't met that person yet, but I still hold out hope. Rose and Em's decision to move in brings my dream closer to reality.

"Rose, the property is a gift of love, it's me sharing my good fortune with you, Mom and Dad, the way you unreservedly shared your love with me. And Em, nothing makes me happier than to having you share the place with Rose. I look forward to becoming an uncle. Wait, you're not pregnant _already_, are you." I turn to stare at her wide-eyed.

"No, we're not." She laughingly reassures me. But we hope to be soon, that's why we want the plans drawn up and the renovations done as soon as possible. We'd like to be living here when the baby's born.

"Great, I'll give you the details for my architect, he did a great job on mine. Between him, Em and Dad you'll be moved in in no time. Oh, I'm sure that Em and Dad have architects that they'd recommend." I hastily add, not wanting to usurp either of them.

"No, I'd like your guy's details. He seems to appreciate the concept of maintaining the building's history, not simply paying homage to modern design.

We end the night on a high note with promises to get together as soon as they have concept plans for us to go through.

On Monday morning, almost as soon as I've settled in and returned a couple of business calls, I contact my insurance company and provide them with Isabella Swan's details. They'll directly pursue a claim against her insurer for the cost of my car repairs. If it turns out that she doesn't have insurance, then they'll most probably seek compensation directly from her. It may seem petty, given my financial circumstances, but it's a matter of principle and the law; and given the kind of money that she earns, she can afford it. I feel marginally better, knowing that she hasn't completely gained the upper hand in this matter, although I still quietly seethe each time I think of her clever deception.

On Tuesday, Alice stops in to inform me that she's managed to contact and arrange for interviews with three of our potential witnesses in the Whitlock case. Two are female sex workers in Aro's clubs, and the third is Simon Church, the manager of Fidelity Properties. She tells me that they can all come in next week. I let her know to go ahead and arrange it. I also advise her that I'd like her to question the females, and if we decide that they'd be good prosecution witnesses, that I'd like her to prepare them for trial. She grins at me delightedly.

"Thanks for giving me the opportunity, Edward. I really appreciate it."

"Alice, I'm not doing you any favors, you deserve it. Besides, I think that you'll do better in getting the women to co-operate. They don't need to feel intimidated by another male."

"You're not that much of a bastard, Edward Cullen."

"Well, just don't let the crims know that."

Thursday morning looms overcast and rainy. As I stare out of my bedroom window, I think that it's a fitting omen for today. I tell myself that this is it, the beginning of the end of any friendship I once had with Jasper. I've already crossed this bridge with James, I feel. But today is the first time that I will publicly speak out against my former friend. Up until now, I've merely pointed to the documented evidence and listened to someone else read the criminal charges against him.

The onus is on me, the prosecutor, to prove to the judge that we have reasonable cause; that Jasper indeed has a case to answer. Today, I go head to head with his defense counsel, who will be trying his damndest to disprove the evidence I present in this case. The fact that opposing counsel too is a former friend, just proves how fucked up this situation is. But I remind myself that the mess is not of my making. I'm merely doing my job. The blame for this lies firmly in Jasper's court. He's the one who made the decisions that landed us all here.

Alice and I make our way into court together. The clerk of the court and the stenographer have already taken their places. Jasper's mother is sitting directly behind the defense table; there is however, no sign of ex-Senator Whitlock. I'm not sure whether Jasper's father's absence is a sign of his disapproval and disavowing of his son, or whether he simply believes it would create less of an opportunity for the press to harp on the fact that both Senators Whitlock have had a close relationship with the Volturi brothers. I also recognise Jasper's cousin, Matthew, who serves as his chief of staff. Most of the public gallery is made up of media personnel and the normal array of curious members of the public.

I'm surprised to see Rose and Mom seated two rows down from the prosecution table. I smile at them both as we take our seats. I know that they're here because they understand the impact this hearing will have on what could prove to be my erstwhile friendships.

James, his female co-Counsel and Jasper arrive shortly after. I glance over at Jasper, and he stares back at me impassively, before he finally acknowledges me with a slight nod of the head. His gesture is reminiscent of the way one would greet a relative stranger whose eye you've just happened to catch in passing.

The court is called to order just moments before the residing judge enters. The clerk of the court reads the charges, and Judge Parks turns to me to make my case. I rise to address the court.

"Your Honor, the people have indisputable evidence, which proves probable cause. On the primary felony charge of racketeering and operating an illegal business, namely prostitution, we ask that the court refer to exhibit one-a and one-b in our submission document.

These two documents prove, without a doubt, that the defendant is part owner of Fidelity Properties, a commercial property and development company.

Exhibit one-a, is a detailed contract, which lists the agreement between the Company and the defendant to purchase a thirty per cent share in Fidelity properties. The document has been notarized and is signed by the defendant and Mr. Aro Volturi in the presence of witnesses." I give the judge time as he silently peruses the documents in question.

"The second document, marked one-b, Your Honor, is a listing of Fidelity's assets, which was discovered during the search of Mr. Volturi's home. Six clubs and bars operating in the wider Boston metropolitan area and four in outlying areas form part of those assets. We have proof that these nightclubs in fact, operate as a cover for a widespread prostitution business.

I ask that you now refer to two documents, marked exhibit two and three. The first is a listing of sex workers employed by the clubs. The list details their names, physical attributes and sexual proclivity if one exists. The fourth column, which lists codes, we believe, indicates the members or customers who have shown a preference for a particular sex worker. The codes against the New Moon employees correlate with membership numbers as listed on exhibit four, which is a listing of New Moon club members. The last column details the rates charged for each woman's services. It's clear that these women were hired or otherwise recruited to provide sexual services to clientele for a fee. These establishments are not clubs, they're brothels; the women are listed as if they are no more than livestock put up for sale. These records establish beyond doubt, the true nature of the business being run from the clubs owned by Fidelity Properties, in which the defendant holds a thirty per cent share." I stop to allow Judge Parks to take in all the information. I turn to Alice briefly, and she gives me a confident smile. When he looks as if he's satisfied, I continue.

"Your Honor, the prosecution attests that the defendant would have or should have undertaken due diligence and verified the company's assets and true nature of all its businesses before he signed any contract. The defendant is a qualified lawyer, so would be well acquainted with the need and process of due diligence.

The prosecution would like to call, Professor Janice Robertson, if the court pleases."

The clerk ushers in our witness and swears her in.

"Would you please state your full name and occupation for the court, Professor."?

"My name is Janice Robertson, and I'm a member of the law faculty at Eastern University. My specialty is corporate governance."

"Thank you, Professor. Would you please go on to explain to the court the aspects of Contracts Law that students are exposed to in gaining their law degrees?"

"Well, all law schools would include at least a unit, which covers Contracts Law. This unit would include basic contracts drafting and mergers and acquisitions. Everybody needs it; every lawyer needs to understand and interpret a contract, be they a criminal litigator or a transactional draftee."

"Professor, would you go on to explain just how the inclusion of these subjects would be relevant to the defendant in entering into a contract to purchase equity in a company such as Fidelity Property?"

"Well, one of the basics tenets taught, is the principle of 'due diligence'. Due diligence is a term used to describe a number of steps taken to avoid committing a tort or offense. It is the investigation of a business or person prior to signing a contract."

"And would you please explain to those of us in court who may not fully understand the term, what 'tort' means?"

" Tort essentially means a wrongful act or an infringement of a right or rights, which may lead to legal liability."

And that is _exactly_ the pertinent point that I want to leave the court with. The fact that Jasper should, in his capacity as a trained lawyer, have known to conduct due diligence. The fact is, that he can't claim ignorance as an excuse to avoid liability. Objectively speaking, as a lawyer, he would know the importance of making sure that he properly checked the financial and material assets as well as the true nature of the business that he was purchasing a substantial shareholding in.

"Thank you, Professor. Your Honor, the prosecution has no further questions for this witness."

"Counsel, do you wish to question the witness?" The judge addresses James.

"Yes, Your Honor. Thank you." James stands to address the court.

"Professor, is it possible that in conducting due diligence that someone may not uncover all financial or material matters?"

"Yes, it is possible, but highly improbable if due diligence is properly undertaken, especially…"

"A simple yes or no answer is all I'm asking for, Professor. Is it _possible _that some things may not be discovered in due diligence?" James cuts her off peremptorily.

"Yes, it is, Counsellor." Professor Robertson concedes, and James has met his objective. All he wants to do is cast doubt in the mind of the judge that Jasper knowingly purchased into a company with illegal business dealings and criminal conduct. It is not in his best interest to question Professor Robertson any further; to do so would only get more of her expert opinion on either how negligent Jasper had been, or how deliberately he ignored the law in his dealings with Aro. To be quite honest, by us calling only this one, particular witness, he had little option but to limit himself to simply the one specific question.

"I have no further questions, Your Honor." James completes his cross-examination.

"Counsel?" Judge Parks turns to me, and I get up to re-direct.

"Professor, you say it is possible that someone may miss out on discovery during due diligence, would you elaborate on that please?"

"Well, it is possible, but highly improbable when due diligence is stringently conducted, especially regarding such a crucial area as verifying ownership and assets of a company."

"And tell me, Professor, in your expert opinion on corporate governance, is ignorance a valid excuse for misconduct or negligence by a principal or owner of a company."

"Well, it may be an extenuating circumstance, but legally it does not exonerate a director or owner of a company from responsibility or liability. Companies can only act through individuals, thus a company can only be held liable for its conduct legal or otherwise, through the individuals who own and operate it. Ignorance or failure to duty should not, in my opinion, be used to argue against culpability or liability."

"Thank you, Professor." And so the ball is back in James' court, although in this instance it gives me little pleasure. I remain however, determined to prosecute this case like I would any other. James is going to have to do better than that.

"Counsel, have you completed your submission to the court?" Judge Parks addresses me again.

"The prosecution has, Your Honor."

"The court will hear Defense Counsel's submission now."

James stands to address the court.

"Your Honor, I ask the court to refer to our submission, in particular exhibit one, which is a signed affidavit from my client. In it, he outlines the facts of his equity purchase into Fidelity Properties. You will note that in the original purchase contract issued to my client by Mr. Volturi, no mention has been made of Fidelity's ownership of the ten clubs in question. In fact, it specifically states in Appendix D of the contract, that the assets list, which omits the clubs, is complete.

My client asserts that deliberately misled him, and that the Company's ownership of those establishments were knowingly omitted from the asset list that formed part of the contract." James tries to minimize Jasper's involvement in the illegal prostitution racket. He stops to let that point sink home, before he continues.

"My client believed that he was purchasing into a company primarily involved in the purchase of commercial property for development and then resale. He had no idea that the company owned and operated ten clubs; that it, in fact, condoned the operation of illegal businesses. His understanding was that the company only purchased commercial properties and not operating businesses."

He waits patiently as the Judge peruses the documents in question and turns to me briefly with a snide smile. I stare back at him. I've just gained an insight into James' defence strategy. He knows that he'll be unable to argue this case based purely on law; he understands that he can't legitimately claim ignorance as a valid reason to have the charges dismissed. The best he can do is to try and have the charges reduced.

When Judge Parks looks up, he continues. "Your Honor, we'd like to call our first witness, if the court pleases." Michael O'Flaherty is called and sworn in.

"Mr. O'Flaherty, will you please state your full name and occupation for the record." James starts.

"I'm Michael Connor O'Flaherty, and I've been the manager at New Moon for three years."

"And Mr. O'Flaherty, could you please tell the court the nature of New Moon's business?"

"Well, Mr Volturi describes it as being an exclusive social club, where like-minded men of influence can meet with peers."

"And to your knowledge, is any illegal business conducted on the premises?"

"No, Sir, to my knowledge, everything is above board. I have never witnessed any illegal business being transacted at the club."

"And were you aware at any time that my client is a co-owner of the establishment, which you manage?"

"No, Sir. I'd always believed that Senator Whitlock was just another valued member of New Moon."

"Thank you, Mr. O'Flaherty." James turns to the judge. "The defense has no further questions for this witness, Your Honor."

When asked whether I'd like to question the witness, I slowly rise to my feet.

"Mr. O'Flaherty, you say that you've worked at New Moon for the past three years; were you employed by Mr. Volturi prior to that time?"

Mike O'Flaherty pales slightly, but answers my question. I mentally high five Jon and his team for the excellent investigative work they've done.

"Yes, I've worked for Mr. Volturi before."

"In what capacity, Mr. O'Flaherty?"

"I worked as the manager at another of his clubs, Coco Kitten, for two years."

"And tell us the nature of that establishment's business?"

"It's a nightclub."

"What _kind_ of nightclub, Mr. O'Flaherty?"

"It's a club with nude and exotic dancers." He reluctantly reveals.

"And tell me, during your period as manager of that club, weren't at least six of your dancers arrested on the premises for soliciting for prostitution?"

"They were, but the club was not responsible for that, it was their own decision to indulge in illegal activities whilst at work."

"And tell me, Mr. O'Flaherty, what action did you, as the manager, and Mr. Volturi, as the owner of the club take against employees who were engaging in illegal activities whilst at work."

"Well, people make mistakes, Counsellor. I believe in giving people a chance."

"By paying their bail and legal costs, Mr. O'Flaherty? By continuing to employ them despite at least half of those women being arrested several more times? In fact, are not all six of those women still employed by other clubs belonging to Mr Volturi?"

Before he can say anything more, I turn back to the judge.

"The prosecution has no further questions for this witness, Your Honor." I don't need to ask any further questions, I've established that O'Flaherty knows the nature of the business that Aro runs in his clubs. Not only is he aware, he was and probably still is, complicit. I strongly suspect that he knows quite a bit about Aro's prostitution business, but there is enough time to further question and break him down during the trial. This is not the forum for that kind of cross.

James then calls Sarah Warne, and the court listens to her testimony about the nature of Jasper's behaviour whilst seen at the club. She claims that neither she nor any of the other dancers at the club were aware of Jasper's ownership status; that neither she nor any of the other dancers, to her knowledge, were expected to sexually service members; that to her knowledge Jasper personally has not engaged in any illegal activities whilst present at the club.

I choose not to question her. Her testimony does nothing to negate the evidence that I've presented. What she's essentially done is try and corroborate O'Flaherty's evidence, she also testified to Jasper's innocence of the lesser charges of actually paying someone for sexual favors. I'm interested in prosecuting him for the criminal charges, for being party to illegally enticing women, sometimes girls barely out of their childhood, into prostitution and for profiting from that disgusting business. I have no more to say at this hearing; I don't need to.

I've now also gained clear insight into James' strategy. He's hoping that the court will, at the very least, lessen the charges against Jasper. Failing that, he'll face trial. In reality, the legal battle may well be fought in court, but the battle for Jasper's reputation and possible return to politics will be won or lost in the face of public opinion.

James has a long shot of getting Jasper off; he must know that. What he's also trying to do is salvage his political career. To succeed, he needs the public to believe that Jasper was as much a victim of Aro Volturi as any of the other people he's preyed upon. James likes to take risks, and there's a chance that he could pull this off.

I will prosecute the legal case against Jasper to the letter of the law, and as I've told James, if I lose this case, I'll have no regrets. But it will not be because I failed in my duties as a public prosecutor. The law is the law, and I'm committed to uphold the law and ensure that justice is served.

Judge Parks has not been convinced to lessen or drop the charges, and he finally rules that Jasper has a case to answer. As the judge completes his summation, Alice surreptitiously squeezes my arm. I capture her hand between my ribcage and elbow for just a moment in acknowledgement.

We leave the courtroom before the defense party. Mom and Rose quickly join Alice and me in the foyer, and I introduce Alice to them both. I'm shocked when Alice signs hello to Rose, after she'd noticed Rose signing to me. She just grins at me when I look at her, and mouths 'later'.

As James and Jasper exit the courtroom, Rose turns to speak to them, and they stop. James briefly hugs Rose and asks her how she is. I turn to Jasper, and hold out my hand.

"I'm sorry that our first meeting after so long has been in such circumstances, Jasper. I wish you well, but you do realize that I have to do my job, don't you." I decide to just face the situation head on.

"Yes, Counsellor, I do." He says coolly, ignoring my extended hand.

And so it is, the beginning of the end. "See you in court, Jasper," I respond, before I turn back to my family.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. We've made this statement before, but feel it prudent to occasionally repeat it. All legal aspects are based on American law, which differs slightly across jurisdictions. This is a work of fiction, so at times we've taken creative license.**


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